


Hot Mess Hawke

by Shadowfire_RavenPheonix



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: 'That Electricity Thing', Anal, Background Slash, Breathplay, Collars, Consensual Kink, Deepthroating, Dom/sub, Drunk flirting, Epic Sex Scenes, Erotica, Eventual Slash Sex, Eventual Threesome - M/M/F, Exhibitionism, F/M, Forced Orgasm, Graphic-Smut-a-thon, Hawke-in-the-Middle, Kink, Leashes, M/M, Male Slash, Man-in-the-Middle, Mild BDSM, Mild Humiliation, Mild S&M, Mild Shame Play, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multi, Multi-Chapter Sex Scene, Name-Calling, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Porn With Plot, Sandwiches, Shameless Smut, Slash, Smut, Spanking, Threesome - F/M/M, Voyeurism, breath play, mild bondage, mild dubcon, naming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-30
Updated: 2014-10-12
Packaged: 2018-02-19 07:40:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 49,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2380292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowfire_RavenPheonix/pseuds/Shadowfire_RavenPheonix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fell Hawke is desperate to keep his current lover, Isabela, happy.  After royally screwing up every other relationship he's had, he's determined that this one will last; despite the rogue's insistence that all they're doing is using each other in order to indulge in some spectacular sex.  In order to achieve his ends Hawke is willing to do anything to keep his lover interested; So when Isabela suggests to her lover that, since he's openly Bi-sexual, she would like to watch him with a man, Hawke jumps at the opportunity.  But he forgot to ask his lover which role she wanted to see him play... Will he be able to find a man he trusts enough whom he hasn't already burned to give Isabela the show she's looking for?</p><p>Warnings: NSFW -  Rated E. Language, Graphic Smut, Slash & Kink Abound. DubCon (Sort of – I put it here to be safe)</p><p>Pairings: Isabela/M!Mage!Hawke  &  M!Mage!Hawke/Sebastian</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One: Isabela Wants

**Author's Note:**

> Opening A/N: This tasty tidbit is from the middle of a series of fics I have simmering on a back burner just now, staring my rather amoral, aggressive/charming *cough*manslut!*cough* Mage Hawke, named Fell.
> 
> Okay. So, I'm not gonna wax particularly eloquent in my description of Fell's face in this, as there isn't really a place for it, as his appearance is established much earlier in the grand scheme of things (this chunk takes place mid Act 3 by game cannon, so quite late in the overall story) so FYI – Fell is the first Hawke I've made who looks anything like the default preset character, and really the only difference is a closer crop to his face fur and red eyes. So, easy enough to picture, yes? (If you interested I have Cover art from my sweet Ezmer- Love ya babe! - Posted on this story over on FFNet) 
> 
> Disclaimer: I hate you BioWare. You own all the best stuff. I own nothing... *weeps in abject despair*
> 
> Over All Story Warnings: Language (obviously) Smut (what else?). Slash! Aka: man-smexings (Don't like it? Don't read it! Simple, no?) Kink (yeah... gotta keep it interesting right?). 
> 
> Trigger Warnings: Some whiffs of dub-con in this story – but really... We're just breaking Sebastian in.
> 
> Pairings: M!Mage!Hawke/Isabela (mostly). M!Mage!Hawke/Sebastian (eventually). And, briefly, the twain shall meet (Yeah Sandwiches!).
> 
> Now onward! To the Smexin'!  
> Bon Apetite!

Isabela watched as Hawke rose from the bed where he'd turned the poor Andriano into a quivering mess of man meat;admiring the way the sheen of sweat on his chiseled core gleamed in the candle lit room. There was really never a time it wasn't worth letting your eyes linger on the man; but naked, after he'd gone through the excretions of a vigorous fuck, was certainly one of the pirate’s favorite times to sit back and admire. It was a rare opportunity; usually she wasn't this clear headed at such times – having been on the receiving end of said exertions. However, thanks to this little foray of theirs into the world of voyeur/exhibitionism, for once, when Hawke climbed out of the bed glistening with sweat and sex, she was in the ideal spot to openly admire.

Isabela's eyes hooded as she soaked up the sight and quality of Hawke's toned and rippling figure; so unlike that of any other mage she shared the sheets with.

Most mages were decidedly on the side of formless under their robes. Not terribly surprising really. After all, it wasn't as though they needed the physicality of rouges or warriors to survive on a day to day basis. So it was only natural that it was an unfailing commonality amongst Circle mages, that they were positively _soft._ Fine where the women were concerned – Isabela considered a fair skinned, softly curvacious woman as a gift from The Maker – but... well, she had absolutely no use for a doughy, shapeless _man_ between her thighs.

Now apostates, that's where mages got interesting. They were physically much better off out of sheer necessity; a life lived on the run, in hiding – facing the constant threat of Templar discovery. It certainly helped to keep a body trim; and Hawke _was_ an apostate, for all that he was also The Champion of Kirkwall and a member of Kirkwall's wealthy elite. It was also true, that anyone who spent the amount of time and energy Hawke did traipsing all over the city and surrounding coastline, was _hardly_ at risk of going to fat like some pampered noble's pet. So it wasn't as though Isabela had expected the man to be anything less than fit, when he'd first shed his leathers beneath her.

Hawke, however, was simply so much _more_ than fit.

Fell Hawke wasn't just lean, like Anders; nor was he all wire-and-whipcord, like Fenris. No, that huge axe-blade he used to disguise the nature of his staff, and his considerable skill at wielding it, had done wonders for the man's core, chest, and back. Naked, Hawke, was a walking piece of art. His upper body rippled and rolled with even the slightest of movements; a veritable masterpiece of hard chiseled lines, carved through the soft swells of round full musculature. His torso was like a perfectly sculpted rendition of the swell and fall of the high seas Isabela loved so much. It made the pirate's mouth water every time his shirt took its leave.

And that _ass_! Maker! She was still tempted to simply walk around everywhere they went with a hand cupping that tight, hard, ass of his. But that, maybe, came across a little... _possessive –_ for her, at least.

And Isabela wasn't one to be called possessive. _Forward_ , absolutely! Maker knew, she wasn't above grabbing, smacking, pinching, or otherwise assaulting those mouthwatering cheeks at every given opportunity and no-never-mind to present witnesses or an inappropriate locale. Void take it! She'd even given him a solid smack on the rump in front of their entire company, and the Grand-Cleric to boot, once; right there in the middle of the Chantry. _He_ hadn't even batted an eye. No, that amazing man had just whipped her around and returned the favor, with interest, before continuing on with his conversation like nothing had happened.

Clearly, neither of them minded, nor cared, what others thought of what they got up to privately – or _publicly_ for that matter. However, they were always careful never to hem each other in. If a pretty wench of a serving girl at the Hanged Man started giving Hawke her come hither eyes... Well, who exactly was Isabela to get uppity about it? His girlfriend? Hardly. Hawke, was his own man, and she her own woman. They rutted, and they fucked; but it wouldn't do for anyone to go getting any odd _ideas_ lodged into their heads. There would be no talk of partnership, ownership or -Maker forbid! - _exclusivity_.

Hawke prowled toward her with a hungry glint in his eye that made the duelist's, still simmering blood, come to a rapid boil. A naked, hungry, Hawke was always a good thing, as far as she was concerned. And the fact that the man still had more to offer her after the show he'd just put on for her benefit was... beyond admirable. But then, Isabela had realized he was a ' _Legendary Fuck_ ', long before he let her out of his bed the first time she managed to topple into it.

The fact of the matter was that The Champion of Kirkwall was, simply put, insatiable.

"Enjoy the show?" He purred into her ear, as he leaned over where she was lounging on the Orlesian chaise he'd had Lusine put into the room for them.

"Not as much as I'm about to enjoy this, I suspect." She replied, settling back further into her seat; inviting him in. His rich, mischievous chuckle, rumbled in his throat as his hand snaked down over her breasts, continuing to sinkl ower until it came to the juncture of her legs; which parted for him of their own volition.

Isabela liked Hawke – more than she cared to admit, truth be told – but her cunt _loved_ him; couldn't get enough of him. His fingers, his cock, that wicked long silver tongue of his... all he had to do was look at her with those blood colored eyes of his and a suggestive little quirk of those sinful lips and her pussy gave up the cream in a flood. And now, after watching him slowly take apart one of Lusine's premium whores... Well! Her smalls were wet enough she could drown a man in them. She felt him smile as he kissed down her jaw line when his hand discovered that little fact for itself; swiftly dealing with the sodden cloth baring its way.

Supple talented fingers slid between her wet folds, and quickly brushed over her hard, swollen clit, by way of greeting, before promptly wandering away to explore her further. Maker, he was such a tease! Somewhere along the line of Hawke's innumerable experiences, the man had learned how to turn teasing into an art form of epic proportions.

And he _never_ relented.

Andraste's swollen tits! Even when he pulled her into a darkened alley-way, bent her over and fucked her like a jack-rabbit, he _still_ found some way to make her _beg_ for it. Now, in the inner sanctum of a brothel... well, it was hardly as though he was going to offer her any quarter _here_. No, Isabela may have been hornier than the Arishok's head, and so wet she was soon going to be able to float a boat between her legs, but he _still_ wouldn't just go for the goods and get the job done.

Those devilish fingers stroked then pinched; flicked then petted. Momentarily circling her opening, prodding it with an exploratory intent; then drifted lazily back to her sweet spot. A quick nasty pinch followed by a minutes worth of soft feather light strokes soon saw her moaning and bucking up into his hand. Begging for just a fraction more pressure behind his touch. It was torturous! Then, just as she was sure she was on the brink of her orgasm, he was off and gone again; his fingers suddenly buried inside her, curving and stroking at the oyster of her inner pearl; where even the tiniest twitch made her cry out at this new and glorious assault.

It was agony! A desperate, wonderful, _euphoric_ kind of agony.

He would deny her one orgasm, only to give her another from a different angle. Leaving her taught with an unstated and frustrated need, even as he made her melt from a different form of pleasure.

Thrice more, he sent that deep aching shiver of gratification coursing through her. That core shattering thrill of internal orgasm, but before each, he brought her within a hairs breath of the flash burn of her clitoral release. Now her skin was flaming for want of _that_ particular sensation. Her tits ached, where his wicked tongue caressed the taught pebbled flesh of her nipples; and everywhere his free hand roamed, burning trails of unquenchable fire were left in its wake.

It was exquisite.

It was unbearable.

He would drive her to madness.

Once more his fingers delved deep within her, brushing over her burning tender core and making her arch her back; screaming out her delight even as a frustrated groan grated in the back of her throat.

Her eyes flew open and her gaze met that of Andriano, who had, _undoubtedly,_ been roused from his exhausted stupor at her wild raucous cries. The whore's eyes were alight with an open appreciation for the sight before him, though he was clearly far too spent to come join in the fun. Never-the-less, the regard of another man on her, as Hawke patiently set about taking her apart at the seams, kindled an even deeper hunger within her flesh. It spoke to the exhibitionist in her, and finally she couldn't take it anymore. Her need demanded satisfaction-absolute.

"For fuck's sake, Hawke! _Please!_ " His satisfied little growl buzzed at the flesh of her nipple, both of which were so hard with her arousal at this point, that Isabela was sure she could have used them to _cut_ her way into any chest whose lock he demanded she pick. Then - _At last!_ \- he was sinking down her body, his hot mouth trailing over her ribs, and cutting off her stray, wandering thoughts as effectively as her silverite daggers parted flesh from bone. His tongue, pulled back till it was just the point of it drawing lazily across her sensitive surfaces; painting lines of fire and ice down her stomach, her navel... Then, with a violence more typical of him- though he'd so far kept it entirely in check this evening- he grabbed her thighs in a vice-like grip and forced them up and apart; leaving her nowhere to hide or take shelter from his relentless onslaught.

And his head - _finally!_ \- sank to her wet dripping core.

Isabela's world shattered.

One touch of that devastatingly clever tongue to her aching, throbbing, clit and Isabela came utterly undone. Her orgasm ripping though her with a force that stole her breath away. Robbing her lungs of air so completely, that though her mouth opened wide with the intent to cry out, she remained absolutely silent; literally, unable to give voice to her scream of satisfied completion. A tidal wave of her pleasure poured out of her, even as her skin flushed so hotly it left her feeling burnt and raw.

And still there was no reprieve.

He gave her only a moments respite as he lapped up the spoils of her climax -the fruits of his labors- before diving in again.

And again.

And again.

Never failing to call forth the grass fire burn of the climax he'd left her craving. For each orgasm he had denied her previously, he now repaid her two-fold.

By the time he was done with her, Isabela had been completely unmade. Now, she was nothing more than a puddle of woman and spent nerves, lying boneless-ly before him. Altogether helpless, and at his mercy, yet so exhaustively satisfied, that she couldn't bring herself to care. She felt quite content to just lay there and never move again. Truly he was the lover to end all lovers, she would be ruined for any other man after him.

Maker, what had she gotten herself into...

Vaguely, she was aware of him sending Andriano out, telling him to inform Lusine that they'd be keeping the room for an hour or so. And, yes, he realized it would cost him.

Isabela scoffed, if only in the confines of her own mind.

As though he cared about _the cost_. He was The Champion of Kirkwall, who'd found a fortune in the Deep Roads. What was a few measly silver when compared to that? Void take it! He'd bought her one of the Rose's premium entertainers for her own chapter in this, their little game of 'show and tell', and he'd done it as though it were nothing. As though two sovereigns for a few hours of entertainment for anyone but one's own self wasn't an outlandish sum in the slightest.

The sounds of him washing at the basin dragged her a little further from her fogged state of euphoria; back a little closer to reality. He certainly would need a good wash to cleanse himself of the evidence of the night’s activities. Between Isabela, Andriano, and his own excretions, Hawke was a good sight more than just _filthy minded_ at the moment.

Some small part of Isabela suggested weakly that she should probably do the same; but as things stood it was all she could do to continue breathing. The idea of her standing and walking across the room to join him at the basin was, frankly, laughable. Even as she lay there, drenched in sweat, with a sticky puddle cooling rapidly between her legs, on a chaise that was growing more uncomfortable with each passing moment, she couldn't even find the energy to shift her ass off the cold dampness beneath her. Then, just as the fog of blissful satisfaction began to be forced from her mind by the discomfort, strong arms were thrust beneath her.

With a grunt, Hawke, hoisted her from the now sodden chaise and moved her toward a drier surface. Fell Hawke, the consummate gentleman.

"Maker's Breath, Isabela, but you're heavy!" Right. This was _Hawke_ she was dealing with. _Gentleman my ass_.

"Watch it, Sweet-thing. Or I'll cut that deceitful tongue right out of your handsome head." She mumbled into his shoulder. He just laughed, as he set her down on the bed he'd thrown Andriano out of. Hardly cleaner than the chaise, true; but at least it had been given a chance to dry some from the sweat the men had drenched it with earlier. One might - _perhaps-_ be persuaded to consider it an improvement. A _marginal_ one.

"You'd never." He stated with certainty, as he collapsed into the bed at her back. Pressing his warm flesh tight up against her now, rapidly cooling skin. "You appreciate its other talents too much to do something so wasteful."

"Mmmmmm. True. Maybe, I'll have it enchanted and keep it in a box under my bed, for later. Sandal could do it." She murmured sleepily, already drifting off again, basking in his soothing heat.

“I'm sure he could.” Hawke chuckled, the vibration of his voice buzzing through Isabela's back. “I'll have to be more careful in future then.”

“Mmm. See that you do.” For a time she just lay there, drifting on the edge of the Fade; aware of his warm body pressed at her back, and little else.

"So... you never actually _answered_ my question, you know?" His voice, though quiet, cut into the silence that had been settling around them, making the pirate start a bit, as he pulled her back from the edge of sleep once more.

"Hmm?" Isabela cocked an inquiring eyebrow at her pillow. Too sated and tired still, to dredge up the energy and make the effort to turn her head, so Hawke might actually see and appreciate the strictly visual gesture.

"About whether you enjoyed the show. Maker knows I enjoyed watching you with Katriela the other night. So was the favor returned?" He inquired as he ran his hand along her upper arm and trickled kisses along her shoulder.

"The show was lovely..." Even as the words left her mouth she realized the tone wasn't right. Maybe he wouldn't catch it. His hand came to a sudden halt and his lips were immediately removed from her skin. _Shit_.

"But..." He drew out the sound, and left it to hang in the air; her continuation of the statement implicit in his lack of one.

"But nothing, Hawke. It was lovely." She made her tone as light and open as possible but she could practically hear Varric crying, 'Bullshit!' all the way from Lowtown. It came out hollow; ringing false even to her own ear. Clearly, Hawke, heard the empty note as well, for he pulled her onto her back and sat up to look her in the eye.

"Maker's Breath! Isabela! You'd better not go getting jealous on me!" He said, his vermillion eyes looking more frantic than she would have ever expected of him. Not Hawke. He didn't _do_ frantic. He didn't panic. He usually just got mad; a state which, frankly, Isabela usually just found yummy. "This was your bloody idea! Remember?" He half snarled, sounding more like the Hawke she knew.

"Jealous! Ha! Hardly my style, Hawke." Obviously he wasn't going to let this drop and he'd roused her far enough out if her post-coital torpor, that she knew she wasn't gonna get out of this without explaining her vague disappointment to him. "Look it's just that..."

"Well?" He prodded, when it became clear that she'd stalled.

"It's just that... when I saw you bring serah Beef-Cake up here to play with us, I thought for sure I was finally going to get to watch someone take _you_ apart for a change, is all."

"Ah." Was all he said, but that single syllable spoke _volumes_ on understanding. "You wanted to see me _topped._ " He rolled away from her on the bed, and she turned to see him stand and begin hunting around the room for where he'd left his trousers.

"Hawke?" He wouldn't quite meet her eyes when she tried to catch his gaze. "Fell?" Still nothing. Andraste's frigid cunt had she gone and offended him somehow? "Oh don't be like that! Is it really that surprising that that was what I was after? Look. I know how good you are at making people into little steaming puddles of goo, Hawke, you do it to me every time. But what does it look like to see _you_ reduced to the same state? I can hardly imagine it." Her tongue slipped between her teeth and her eyes misted over a bit as she tried to call forth a visual to match the idea. “What does Fell Hawke look like when _he_ comes undone.”

" _You_ make me come undone." He muttered, his back to her as he drew his shirt on over his head. His sudden business-like air galvanizing her to pull herself together and start the hunt for her own clothes, even as she scoffed at his words.

"Ha! Hardly!" She barked out, a little bitterly. "I hold my own, Hawke... But just. You're a bloody _tiger_ in the sack and -I guess- Look. I shouldn't have been surprised at the direction things took really, ‘cause -Maker knows!- You certainly don't give up control easily. But the simple fact is _I_ don't come equipped with a cock; And based on you preferences until me, I'm betting that, _that_ is what it takes to really make _you_ melt. A nice fat cock breaching your back door." She purred and licked her lips hungrily to show her appreciation of the imagery when he glanced her way in order to toss her boots at her.

"Really, all I want," she continued, in a lightly innocent tone, as though it were perfectly reasonable thing to admit to wanting. "is to see you beneath a nice brute of a man – that lovely neck of yours staining as he pushes into your delicious ass – and watch as he then proceeds to ravage you until you break. Is that, honestly, too much for a girl to ask?"

"Not _too_ much," Fell said turning back to her a thoughtful look in his eyes. "but it is -as things stand- Well, it is a _bit_ of a tall order, Bela." He muttered, looking almost sheepish as he said it. Isabela's eyes got roundly huge as her brain jumped to the first conclusion it could draw-up from that slightly embarrassed look on his face.

"But I thought- all those toys! - surely you must have- Hawke! Don't tell me you're a black cherry virgin!" She gasped her hand rushing to her mouth, her eyes beginning to dance with mirth. "because that would just- That would be too priceless!"

"What? NO! No, no. Maker's hairy sack, Bela, no! Nothing like that!" He grimaced. Then spotting her corset lying of the floor, threw it at her where she sat on the bed, now clearly chortling at him. "No." He said firmly when she still looked like she might burst into gales of laughter at any moment. "Look. It's just not a position I allow myself to get into. Not unless I _really_ trust the other man. And as things, currently, stand..."

"Ah." She said getting control of herself, a look of understanding coming into her warm gold eyes. "So I suppose it's not good enough to just have someone you trust in the room, and an experienced whore?" She asked, coyly batting her lashes at him. Hawke snorted.

"Sure, but where would we find someone I trust, I wonder?" He said giving her a sly smile. Isabela squawked and threw one of his boots at his head, making him laugh as he ducked. "Experienced, I may be, but I'm hardly a whore. No matter _what_ Aveline says." She sniffed, as though affronted, "I never _charge_... and I don't do ugly men. And you, serah, _do_ trust me."

"Oh do I? Miss, 'I-Like-Big-Boats.-I-Cannot-Lie.'" This time Isabela spotted Hawke's other boot and threw it straight at his face, with a playful snarl.

"Are you ever going to let me live that down?" She whined, to which Hawke just laughed harder.

Fully dressed, Hawke went to lead Isabela from the room but stopped her just before she was about to pass through the door. "Seriously, Bela – you need to hear me on this – I won't bottom with just any random person." Again, Hawke's eyes did not _quite_ meet her own.

"And like I said, Sweet-thing, it's nothing. Just a nice little wet dream for me to indulge in later."

 

**.:xo-HMH-ox:.**

 

What Isabela had no way of knowing, was just how much it had weighed on Fell's mind, to discover her less-than-perfectly-pleased state, after their time spent in the Rose. His desperation to make things work with the sultry rogue was rapidly turning into something of an obsession. She was one of the few women he'd ever met who could go toe-to-toe with him in bed; and after the debacle with Fenris and Anders, he'd woken up to the fact that he really _did_ want someone to share his life with. True, he'd never imagined it would be a woman his eye would finally settle on; but then, he'd never _imagined_ a woman quite like Isabela.

So, simply put: if Isabela wanted it, Hawke would move the earth and sky to see her have it. But he had to be discreet about it. If he started showering her with gifts and attention, she'd catch on and disappear like the Arishok was back from the dead. So he kept it off-hand. Casual.

When she got silly over a hat in that silly little hat-shop she loved so much, it would appear in her rooms a day or two later. Just a joke gift. Like that toy soldier set he bought Aveline, or the little hand mirrors he was always giving Merrill. What? She had _actually_ wanted it? Well, then... the joke was on him.

Or, when she admired that new pair silverite daggers at the weapons stall in Hightown. The following day he bought them for her, and when she grumbled about charity, he insisted it was just him looking out for his team. After all, it was time they _all_ looked into weapon replacements. Look! he even made Varric get Bianca a new rune. He needed them to be well armed if they were supposed to be watching his back when all was said and done.

And when her eyes lit up with a covetous light at the sight of Katriela sitting amongst the other premium entertainers in the Rose, he'd taken immediate steps to procure the saucy little elf for his lover. clearly, his motives were entirely selfish, right? If he was going to watch Isabela in the arms of another woman, he wanted it to be with the best for... _aesthetic_ reasons.

Thank the Maker, there wasn't a ship on the sales block down at the docks, though. He had absolutely no idea how he would have rationalized something like that away as a triviality. Perhaps a lie about looking to expand into the import/export business? _Heh, she'd never buy it_.

Mind, on that _one_ thing, he might have been able to resist the urge to spoil her; if purely out of a sense of self preservation. After all, if he supplied her with a ship, she was sure to leave Kirkwall. He knew he could keep her happy in bed for a time, but eventually she _would_ get bored with him, and without the fantastic inventive sex to anchor her here, the lure of the open water would be too strong for her to resist for long.

That was the biggest hurdle he faced in trying to win the rouge's heart; sexual boredom. He needed to keep things alive and fresh in the bedroom. To keep her appetite sated and her desire for variety assuaged. If he couldn't manage that, she was likely to wander off on him, with or without, a boat. It wasn't too much of a problem for the moment. He was certainly willing to give her head and freedom regarding other partners, so long as she was equally open with his own wandering eyes. Though he was - _gently-_ steering her in the direction of bringing any potential partners to his attention as well; so that they _both_ might have a bit of fun with them.

She was _right_ , after all – he might be staunchly bisexual, however, his eye did tend to linger a little more on the men in a room. Thusly, it wasn't as though _he'd_ have any objections to her bringing another man into the bed. And it would certainly be harder for her to forget about him in the novelty of a new lover, if he was actually _in_ the bed with them.

It had honestly been a relief when she expressed an interest in watching him with another man. Not only had he been feeling a little nostalgic twinge whenever a man with a prominent package and a tight ass passed them in the street; but he had been starting to run out of new tricks to pull out of his hat in order keep her entertained. So he'd rushed to agree with her observation that, seeing as they both had an acute interest in their own genders, it would be an interesting experiment to see how each of them behaved with a partner of the same sex.

But then she'd gone and thrown that curve ball at him. She wanted him to bottom. And if Isabela wanted; Hawke _would_ deliver...somehow.

Again, Isabela had demonstrated a rather surprising talent for insight. Her little comment regarding just what he needed to really let himself go, had been nothing but the purest truth. All the fingering and toys in the world couldn't see him really fall apart, the way a solid rogering with a hard, throbbing, cock could. Problem was: he'd be a wreck afterward. And it had only taken the one bad experience in his youth -when he'd let his lust override his better judgment- to cure him of any desire to indulge in that _particular_ pastime with anyone in whom he didn't have the utmost trust ever again.

And there-in lay the rub.

He just didn't have that many people he trusted; not to _that_ extent, at least. Void take it! Since becoming Champion, he didn't have that many people he would even classify as friends, let alone _trusted_ friends. Sudden wealth and fame did a great job showing you just exactly how _little_ others actually thought of you. The closest people to him _now_ , were the ragamuffin members of his little band of adventurers, and of the men in that group... Well, he'd pretty thoroughly fucked up those relationships years ago.

The Fenris debacle had done a real number on him. Here he was, _years_ later, and it still made him wince each time he thought about it. And though he still trusted the warrior with his life on the field of battle, that trust no longer extended to anything more intimate. True he might be persuaded to sleep with the elf again. Provided, of course, someone else managed to convince the warrior first. Which was far more unlikely given all Hawke had done out of spite and anger afterward. However, Hawke would never again trust the elf enough to let himself be _that_ vulnerable in front him.

Anders would have been ideal. He certainly had experience enough to let Fell relax into the ride, and ensure Isabela got a good show out of it, besides. But, with the healer, the problem was the exact opposite of the situation with Fenris; _he_ trusted Anders, but on an intimate level, Fell had given the healer every reason to never trust _him_ again. Besides that, Justice would never forgive Hawke for having lead the man on out of his twisted need for revenge against the elf.

_Hypocritical spirit._

But, hypocrisy or no, the fact remained – Justice was what he had been made to be, and so long as the spirit wouldn't forget, Anders' tender heart wouldn't forgive. Which essentially meant that the healer was so far removed from available, where Hawke was concerned, that the Champion might-as-well have been a corpse.

Not for the first -nor undoubtedly the last- time, Fell lamented the fact that he hadn't met Anders pre-Justice. From what Isabela told him, he would have positively adored the charming, footloose, devil-may-care man the healer used to be; before that damned spirit took his one bitter spark and fanned it into a blazing inferno – giving him _a cause_. Pre-Justice Anders would have - _supposedly_ \- been quite happy to jump in and out of bed with him and Isabela however many times they'd asked. He probably wouldn't even have _minded_ being used as a slake for Hawke's lust and anger with the elven warrior – so long as the sex was good. Or so Isabela would have Fell believe. According to the pirate, before Justice, Anders had been very much about living for the moment, what with the hiding out in brothels and all.

Ah, Nug Shit.

Well, it was all a moot point now. In his anger and need to lash out at Fenris, Hawke, had done an excellent job of burning his bridges with both men. So now he found himself standing on a spire in the middle of a ravine sorely in need of a bridge. _Shit_. Hind-sight was a real bitch. He was fucked -in the metaphorical sense at least- for no matter how he twisted and turned the situation he just couldn't see a way clear to getting properly fucked in the _physical_ sense.

Maker this was giving him a headache!

"You'd better be planning on serving up something from your private reserve, Varric!" Hawke half-shouted as he barged into the dwarf's apartment at the Hanged Man. "My head can't take the rotgut swill they serve at the bar tonight."

"Say the word, Hawke, and I'll pull out a barrel of the good stuff. After all, what's mine is yours and what's yours is... well, still yours, but at least you let me borrow it, now and again." Quipped the dwarf as he put the final few strokes on Bianca's evening polish. Then he looked up. "Shit Hawke! You really do look sour. You sure you’re up for our game tonight? I can't see that scowl helping your wicked-grace face any, and you're not that good to begin with."

"Very funny, Varric. I'll remind you of that when I'm counting out my purse."

"You mean the few remaining coppers left to your name by the time me and the Rivaini are done with you?" They cheerfully lobed jibes and insults at each other along that vein for a while. The usual pregame ritual soothing Hawke's frantic thoughts in a way nothing else had since yesterday. Varric was always good for that. Hawke could count on his stalwart dwarf in even the most dire of circumstances to bring some levity to pretty much any situation. He could always trust Varric.

_Hmmmm. Varric..._

No. Dumb idea. Varric was straighter than one of his crossbow bolts. And to be honest, it had been _years_ , and Fell didn't think he was up to taking on something of _dwarven_ proportions. Sure they weren't overly long, but girth was the bigger issue here, and dwarf cocks had a reputation for being... _rotund_.

 _Perhaps if I had a couple weeks to prepare..._ But no. Again. No. _DUMB IDEA_. He practically shouted at himself. He needed to just drop it. But his mind was like his mabari with a bronto bone. It had to sit there and worry at it even though it was old and dry and cracking, and there was positively nothing of value to be had from it; but it was _a_ _bone_ and his brain just wasn't going to leave it.

"Hawke!" Varric's shout and a stout pair of fingers snapping right under his nose, brought the man back to himself with a little start.

"Sorry. What was that?"

"I was asking why you got here so early, but clearly you’re moving on automatic. I asked over a minute ago and have just been trying to get you attention ever since. Seriously, what's got you so tied up in that empty head of yours anyway?" Varric asked. His face open and intent; his copper eyes not quite managing to hide their concern. He really was an exceptionally handsome dwarf...

Then Hawke's tongue slipped its leash and made a break for the cliffs.

"Varric...You wouldn't happen to be interested in helping me and Isabela out with a little _experiment_..." Hawke's mind suddenly realized that his tongue was loosed and raced to catch it before it ran them into serious trouble. But the damn thing had too much of a head start. "Something private. I guess you might call it a-"

"Whoa now! Stop right there, Hawke. If the next word that was thinking of coming out of that mouth of yours, starts with the letter pairing 'th' and ends in a 'some', then you might wanna reconsider finishing that sentence." The dwarf warned, his hand going down to the crossbow at his side like he was holding it back. "Bianca's libel to get twitchy."

"Right. Dumb idea." Hawke dropped his head into his hands and groaned "I knew that. I'm just... I don't think there's anyone else."

"Shit! That was actually it? Damn, Hawke! You’re a handsome man and all, but a bed with you, me and the Rivaini in it has entirely too much chest hair to be healthy, in my opinion. Besides, Bianca, has strict rules about me not mixing business with pleasure." Hawke winced a bit as the dwarf then came to the wrong, however more logical, conclusion. "So... troubles in the bedroom, then. What is it? The Rivaini pumping you so dry you need another set of balls to give up the juice?" Varric snickered. "Color me surprised, Hawke. I always thought – on that front at least – that you and the Rivaini were pretty evenly matched." Varric was still chortling at Hawke's supposed short comings as he lifted his mug to his mouth. The Champion recognized the familiar glint in the storyteller’s eyes, and groaned internally.

Varric had that particular sparkle to his gaze that meant he was considering publishing another of his poorly disguised 'fiction' books. Hawke groaned again, aloud this time. He knew he was going to regret correcting the dwarf's assumption, but better to have him know the truth, than have the tales of "The Empty Falcon"-or some _other_ such tripe- making the rounds of the city.

"It's not anything like that. Any whore at the Rose would do for something like that. No, she wants to watch a man top me, and for that _I_ have certain requirements." It took Varric a moment to put Hawke's words into the appropriate context. Unfortunately when they _did_ click into place, the storyteller was right in the middle of a deep pull at his beer, and the shock made him choke on it. In fact, he spluttered and coughed long enough that Hawke was actually growing concerned and had to give the dwarf a couple of hearty whacks to help him clear his pipes.

"Andraste's puckered, nug-humping ass, Hawke! What are you trying to do? Kill me!" He finally managed in a wheezing gasp. "You were honestly about to ask me to – Bianca cover your ears! - to _fuck_ you, all so that Rivaini could get her rocks off watching?! By my ancestors, you've got it bad for that woman."

"No. Maybe..." Hawke buried his face in his hands and pulled at his hair. "Look, I knew it was a bad idea." He studiously told the table "But I'm stumped. I _want_ to do this for her. Fuck that, I've just _wanted_ it since she went and planted the idea. It's been _years_ since I had a good buggering. This situation has just given me all the excuse I could possibly ever need to look into it seriously. But, I have a rule about who I'm willing to do that kind of thing with, and it pretty much rules out anyone who doesn't attend this card game. And seeing as... Well... Really, you were my only option."

"Alright I can see your point there. Broody and Blondie certainly aren't gonna be in any kind of rush to help you out with that these days. But I'm afraid that means you're S.O.L. my friend. 'Cause frankly, I'm now going to make a concerted effort to get positively shit-faced drunk in order to wipe this conversation entirely from my memory. Do you even realize how much ale it takes to get a dwarf that drunk? You, serah, owe me a cask of something from your cellars for that, less-than-choice, image you just forced on me." The dwarf shuddered a bit and drained the remains of his tankard in a pull. Hawke just banged his head against the table a couple of times.

Varric was as good as his word, and proceeded to down two tankards of his private reserve in less than a minute. Halfway through his third he let loose with a belch that shook the dust from the rafters in its ferocity before setting off on a blue stripe of curses that would have made a sailor blush. Hawke couldn't help but snort, at least his frustrated misery had company now.

"Nug humping bronto piss!" The dwarf snarled as he smashed his tankard down on the table again, then pointing an accusatory finger at Hawke. "A cask of your best Tevinter wine and the full story of what happened between you, Broody, and Blondie two years ago. And I mean the _full, explicit_ story my friend! I'm writing that book for this!" Fell groaned but nodded his consent. He'd known it was a _properly_ bad idea, to ask the dwarf; he'd take his punishment like a man.

About that time the others started to arrive. Fortunately, everyone was too caught up in their own dramas to notice anything unusual between the dwarf and their leader. Varric was just grateful for the distraction they all provided from his overly vivid imagination and he had enough drinks in him, by that point, that he was capable of spouting his usual witty barbs. And Hawke... Well, no one really wanted to risk his acerbic tongue when he was in an off mood, which he clearly was, so mostly the conversations just swirled around him as everyone claimed a seat and Varric began to deal.

"You're not still sore about last night are you, Sweet Cheeks?" Isabela whispered in his ear after the first few hands of wicked grace. Her hand snaking up his thigh beneath the table. "Honestly, Sweet-thing it was just an idle fancy."

"I'm fine, Pet." He said turning into the rouge and nuzzling at her neck. "Just a bit of a headache."

"I thought we were here to play cards. Not take in the latest act of 'Hawke: A Slap & Tickle' show." Groused Anders sourly from his seat across the table.

"I seem to recall you were a sight worse when it was your turn, Abomination." Fenris drawled, never taking his eyes from his hand. "It was all he could do to keep you from crawling into his lap at every passing opportunity. It was distinctly nauseating then too, as I recall."

"I'm sorry did it bother you?” Anders mocked, his voice overly sweet and innocent “I never meant to upset your delicate sensibilities, Elf."

"You didn't." Fenris returned in a cool deadpan

"Of course not.” Anders muttered, “A stone statue has more emotional depth than you, Mongrel." Fenris growled warningly at the Grey Warden, unfortunately only reinforcing the impression of animalistic rabidity Anders always accused him of. The mage's finger twitched in response to the threat and started to crawl with little sparks of lightning. Hawke just sighed into Isabela's neck, even as his cock stirred in his smalls. He hated to admit it but Fenris' deep rumbling growl, full of implied menace, still went straight to the root of his cock every time he heard it. And the thought of what Anders could do with those gently sparking fingers...

And with that Little-Hawke was up.

"Maker's Breath you two!" Aveline cut in, half-standing from her seat and physically interposing herself between Hawke's ex-lovers, before things could escalate. "Can't you both just give it a rest? You only encourage them with your damned jealous quibbling. See! Now look what you’ve done." The guard captain waved a hand back to where Isabela was now straddling Hawke and making a real effort to swallow him whole, her hips rubbing over his stiffening cock. Isabela was never one to let and opportunity go to waste, and she positively adored making the two glowing idiots as jealous as possible at every opportunity.

"Ugh." Anders wretched, and throwing his hand down on the table in disgust. "I'm gonna go take a piss." Then he all but fled the suite in a huff of robes and feathers. Fenris Just curled his lip in distaste as he turned toward Donnic and asked after some of their mutual friends in the Guard.

"Alright, now for you two.” Aveline said reaching over the table and pulling Hawke and Isabela apart. “That'll be quite enough of that. Hawke, I don't think even Varric's up for you screwing the Whore in the middle of his table just now."

"Better that, than the other option he was trying to sell me." Muttered the dwarf, finishing his seventh tankard of the evening, a record for him, this early in the game.

"But mother dear! You never let me play with my toys." Whined Isabela at Aveline, doing a fair job replicating that particular _tone_ of thwarted little children everywhere, and making Aveline's spine go instantly ridged. _Maker!_ thought Hawke, that was all he needed! To have Isabela and Aveline start butting heads tonight as well. Better to diffuse the situation.

Hawke flashed his brightest most charming smile at the two women, which earned him a scowl from Aveline, and a shrewd look from Isabela. "Bela, pet? Might you still have that bottle of Antivan brandy stashed away in your rooms? The ale just isn't doing it for me tonight."

"You and me both." Groaned Varric, as he stood to refill his tankard yet again.

"Spoil sport." Isabela really was quite attractive when she pouted like that, but, despite her words and put out expression, she turned and sauntered off to fetch the bottle with a suggestive sway to her hips. No sooner was the pirate clear of the door, than Aveline declared she was going to get another round from the bar for herself and the others. Merrill quickly offered to help, seeing as Donnic was now engrossed in a conversation with Fenris regarding some drama at the barracks. So no one was paying any attention when Varric slapped down his mug next to Hawke and said with a falsely casual air.

"So...not attempting to win either of them over, I see."

"No point wasting the effort on something that's a stark impossibility." Was Hawke's murmured reply as he started to raise his own cup to his lips, intending to finish the ale before Isabela returned with the brandy. Then, suddenly, the answer to all his problems made his appearance at the top of the stairs from the common room. Varric saw Hawke's mug freeze halfway to his lips and glance at the door to see what had caught the Champion's attention, just as a new voice announced the presence of a late comer to the game.

"Pardon my rudeness, Hawke." Sebastian’s thick Starkhaven burr preceded the man into the room, galvanizing Hawke as nothing else had been able to all evening. "It seems I'm more than just marginally late to our little soiree."

"Nonsense Seb! It's never too late to join the rabble!" Hawke's voice was vibrant with real energy for the first time that evening. Varric looked between the Choir Boy and Hawke's newly awakened, hopeful, face and began to chuckle under his breath even as he shook his head at Hawke's folly. If Hawke thought he was gonna get the Choir Boy to break his vows he had another thing coming. He'd already won forty silver off the Rivaini based on the monk's ability to resist temptation. Fact: Choir Boy was just too _boring_ to cheat.

"Not even gonna happen, Hawke." The dwarf muttered under his breath as Sebastian stopped to join in the conversation taking place between Fenris and Donnic.

"Not. A. Word." Hawke growled between his teeth in an aggressive aside to his business partner.

"Whatever you say, Hawke." Varric murmured, shaking his head ruefully. This was destined to crash and burn, but a least it would be interesting to watch. Idly Varric wondered how Hawke would broach the subject now that everyone was present and accounted for. The man was brazen but he doubted even _he_ _'d_ be so crass as to just come out with it to a sworn lay brother, in front of all their cohorts, and his two ex-lovers besides. With a smug smile, the dwarf settled a little deeper into his chair to watch the fun.

Fell, on the other hand, sat up a little straighter as he watched the monk talk with Donnic and Fenris; practically purring with satisfaction. Why hadn't he thought of this before? Sure, Seb had his _vows_ , but he was making moves to retake Starkhaven. He'd be a king soon enough and _k_ _ings_ needed strong lines of succession in order to really secure their thrones, everyone knew that. Which meant, those vows were well on their way to being annulled anyway. It wouldn't take more than a carefully calculated push to knock the shining example of virtue, that was Sebastian Vael, from that pedestal he'd been perched on; and back down into the real world filth with the rest of them.

And pushing was practically Hawke's job description. _Well, a push and a well baited trap perhaps._ He mused. Traps weren't really Seb’s strong suit, and if the bait was right... The only question was: was Seb the type of man who'd spring the trap if _Fell_ was the bait on offer?

 _Only one way to find out._ He thought, as he hastily stuffed the much diminished pile of coins in front of him into his purse, making Varric arch a brow at him. Hawke just gave the dwarf another look that told him to bite that tongue of his. _Time to polish off the old seduction skills._ Impatiently, he waited for Sebastian’s conversation with the others to lull.

"Seb! Grab a seat." He called, kicking Isabela's chair out in an invitation to the archer. Hawke's mouth watered as he really let his eye linger on the sway of Sebastian's pelvis as he walked toward him. How was it, he'd never really appreciated the subtle symphony of motion that was Sebastian’s particular form of a strut, before? Silently he cursed that damned belt buckle and how much it obscured his view; there was really no hint of what Seb was packing under all that shining armor.

A thrill ran through him, and he had to suppress the urge to shiver. His blood firing with an excitement that had as much to do with the anticipation and the hunt, as the man himself. It had been an age since he'd attempted to get into the smalls of a man who didn't necessarily fancy other men. It was always such a thrilling challenge; to carefully tread the line between friendly and flirty, then tilt it - _ever so slightly_ \- in the desired direction.

"You seem to have offered me someone else’s seat, Hawke" Sebastian said eying up the pile of Isabela's winnings.

"Just getting Isabela to sit where I want her.” Hawke replied with a leer and a slap on his thigh.

"Oh, Sweet-thing! All you had to do was ask." Said Isabela as she re-entered the suite, the bottle of brandy in hand.

"Maker's Breath." Came Anders exasperated oath from behind her as he followed her into the room. Isabela just flashed the blond mage a smile, before sauntering over to Hawke and planting that delicious rump of hers down just exactly where he wanted it.

"Won't that give you a rather unfair advantage?" Inquired Sebastian, taking a seat as he watched Isabela collect her coins before uncorking the bottle of brandy with her teeth and pouring out a portion each, for herself and Hawke. "There's really no way she can hide her hand from you like that.

Hawke took the cup of bandy and downed it in a single throw, playing up his reaction just a bit so that Seb might believe he was a little further into his cups than he actually was. He answered the prince as he poured himself a second, "Nah. I'm done with the cards. This lot of crooks has taken me for all I'm willing to give them. Now I'm just here for the drink, _and_ the fine company!" He wiggled his eyebrows at the monk, making the prince snort at Hawke's audacity. Then Hawke raised his cup in a salute to the rest of the group as well, and made as though he meant to take a sip. But, just before he let the liquor touch his lips, he paused thoughtfully and swung the cup toward Sebastian until the tumbler of fragrant antivan brandy was less than an inch from Seb's nose. "Sure I can't tempt you, Seb?" He queried, lowering his tone to the far side of seductive, then purred, "It's Antivan."

In the entire time Hawke had known him, the lay brother had always refrained from consuming anything stronger than barley water; and really, Seb only conceded to drinking _that_ because the 'water' in the Hanged Man would kill you – or at least make you violently ill. But now, after days of being shut up with political advisers and wading through the mire that was the coup d’état he was planning, Sebastian’s nose definitely twitched when confronted with the rich scent of fine brandy. Later, Hawke would even swear he saw the merest hint of tongue peek through those full succulent lips, before the monk pursed them and uttered his usual declination. It wasn't lost on Hawke, however, that it was the slowest most _reluctant_ refusal, Sebastian had ever given the Champion on the offer of a drink. Nothing like his easy confident refusal of mere weeks before.

 _Oh yes_ , he thought as he brought the cup back to his own lips and took a sip, _the cracks are definitely starting to show._

The night progressed as was usual from there, but Hawke continued to play up as though the drink had gone to his head far more than it actually had. The perfect excuse as to why he was being - _just marginally-_ inappropriate with the straight laced man sitting next to him. He oftentimes leaned over to make ass and cock laced innuendos about the game directly into Sebastian's ear; the Starkhaven Prince always chided him for it, never-the-less he _continued_ to lean in whenever Hawke looked as though he wanted to share. It was Isabela, however, who finally gave Hawke the opportunity to get a little hands-y with his prudish friend.

"Oh that's right! I saw this fellow down at the dock today," She started after someone, probably Aveline, – Hawke wasn't really following the conversation all that closely, what with his attention being almost exclusively focused on the man siting a foot to his left – mentioned that the docks were swarming with disreputable men looking for work. "and we really must find him something to do locally, Sweetness, he is just too much of an improvement to the local scenery for us to let him get away. Remind me to show him to you."

"Oh? A looker, huh. Do tell me more." Hawke brought his nose to the pirate’s neck and began to lick and nibble at the soft, sensitive flesh just below her ear, making her hum in appreciation. Still, Hawke's focus was on Sebastian who kept darting little glances out the corner of his eye at an activity he _normally_ would have turned his gaze from entirely. Clearly Hawke had his mind working in the right direction.

"Mmmmmm. Don't stop doing _that_ , and I just might." She leant back into him even as she threw down another wining hand on the table, making the other players groan. "Let's see. He was about six foot three. Black braid. Chiseled jaw. Neck and shoulders like a Qunari, but these nice slender hips that you know were just _made_ to be straddled. Positively rippling with muscle." She closed her eyes as she recalled. "And absolutely _covered_ with tattoos." Then she opened those sultry gold eyes of hers and, looking directly at Fenris, made a show of licking her lips. The elf just gave her a cold eyed stare in return, as though she were beneath his notice.

"Tattoos?" Sebastian piped up his eyebrows climbing toward his hair-line in incredulity. " _That's_ what impressed you most? Normally I find the things a vulgar distraction. Crude and poorly done drawings cluttering up otherwise pristine, lovely skin. It's a criminal waste." Oh yes, Hawke's little game was definitely turning back the clock of Sebastian’s memories to a time before faith and dedication and _vows_. Sebastian 'Pure-as-the-driven-snow' Vael would never have deigned to even acknowledge Isabela's shallow description, let alone offer an equally shallow dissenting opinion on it. What was more it was an incredibly tactless comment to make in front of Fenris; who was extremely self-conscious of his _very_ tattoo-like lyrium brands.

"She loves a man with a bit of ink." Hawke said, taking his mouth from the pirate’s neck and he turned and leaned into Sebastian before continuing in a staged whisper. "Made me get one." He was so focused on the monk, Hawke, didn't notice the identical looks of shock that suddenly whipped across Fenris’ and Anders' faces, their eyes widening with something that looked, almost, like _regret_. "It's a tiger. Wraps all the way around my hip. She's says she made me get it because I'm a real _tiger_ between the sheets." Then he leaned in – just a little closer – till his lips were almost brushing the shell of Sebastian’s ear lowering his voice to a real whisper, one positively dripping with suggestive implications, " _Want to see_?" And at that precise moment Hawke pretend to overbalance in his chair.

And Fell, fell – right into the other man’s lap.

The move actually _did_ over balance Isabela, and sent her tumbling onto Varric; effectively distracting the other card players from the much less dramatic seeming collision of Hawke and Sebastian.

Had Varric not been suddenly preoccupied by a lap full of inebriated Isabela, he certainly would have been witness to Hawke, as he finally made his move. After all, the dwarf had been watching the two men intently all night. But as things played out Varric missed the pivotal moment in their game. He didn't see how Hawke's hand shot out to stabilize the mage, landing conveniently on Sebastian's thigh; neatly finding its way under that shiny armor skirting, to the much less effective barrier of the silk trews beneath. Nor did the dwarf witness Hawke's mouth ending up pressed directly into the monk's ear. Yet even if he _had_ caught a glimpse of these things out of the corner of his eye, he could hardly have been faulted for missing the much subtler actions which happened next as Hawke took advantage of this new position.

Nor the equally subtle but very telling _reactions_ of the soon again to be Crown Prince of Starkhaven.

No sooner had his lips made contact with Seb's ear, than Hawke, opened them a little wider and let his tongue snake out and tease at the opening of the archer's ear canal making the other man gasp. A lovely little complex gasp, full of shock and confusion and just the barest note of _intrigue_. That exquisite little sound was lost to the rest of the company who were now all laughing at the two inebriated rouges as they struggled to untangle themselves; but it was clear as the Chantry's bells to Hawke's ears.

Startled by the unexpected contact, Sebastian jumped away from the Champion, turning to look at him in a startled kind of disbelief. Surely Hawke hadn't just shoved his tongue into his ear on purpose! But when his bright corn-flower eyes met Hawke's murky red ones, there was no denying the heat and intensity of them. There was also no disguising the fact that those eyes were a great deal more sober than the man had been pretending to be. The monk shifted, further twisting in his seat, to better take his poor blushing ears as far as possible from that devilish tongue which was licking the Champion’s lips like it had just tasted something especially delicious.

It was the wrong move. That twist might have removed his _ear_ from immediate danger... But it exposed something much more _vulnerable_.

For you see, when he twisted, his one leg moved, but the other remained stationary; pulling his knees farther apart from each other. Effectively, Sebastian had just spread his legs for his attacker.

Still in shock over the sudden warm and moist intrusion into his ear, the prince hadn't noticed the hand on his thigh until the moment Hawke shifted it even further up the monk's leg. He tightened his grip, applying just enough pressure that there was no way Sebastian could miss its presence now. Those fingers dragging up his inner thigh in a crude kind of caress; sliding over the silk trews right up to his groin. But there they stopped. Hawke's fingers gave another slight squeeze as he looked directly into Seb's eyes, and then, he let go.

He allowed his retreating fingers to - _just_ \- ghost over the bulge of Sebastian’s prick. His one indulgence for himself, never mind the risk of it being, _potentially_ , the step that went too far. But he kept that delightful little taste of a touch light enough that Seb would later question if he had actually felt the contact or simply imagined it. He did it to satisfy his own desire, but as it turned out, it was the move that tipped the balance. In that moment of barest contact between Hawke's fingers and the prince's cock, Hawke saw what he needed to see: Sebastian's azure eyes blown wide with the first glimmerings of arousal.

And with that one look, Sebastian’s fate was sealed. The push had been made, and the prince had nowhere to turn but to continue to stumble in the direction Hawke wanted him to go. Now all he had to do was, bait and set the trap, then sit back and enjoy the spoils.

And what spoils they would be.

Hawke let his eyes rove over the rogue prince once more. Imagining the man under the armor, and had to restrain himself from breaking into an entirely predatory smile. Yes, this was going to be _delicious_.

 

**.:xo-HMH-ox:.**

 

"All right Hawke, spill." Isabela demanded as she closed the door to her room behind her and leaned up against it.

"Whatever do you mean, Bela?" He asked, his voice brimming over with mock innocence.

"Don't play coy with me, Messere. You were up to something with that little stunt you pulled that had me all but drowning in Varric's chest hair. Not that I minded that, but I want to know what you're up to. And just what was that bet about?" She said, prowling over to him like a cat stalking a mouse. Closing the distance between them and then backing him into the bed where she promptly cupped the raging hard-on he'd been suffering from ever since he'd seen that flash of heat in Seb’s eyes.

The rest of the card game had been almost tortuous for Hawke after that. He knew he had to back off then; play it straight, and leave the man guessing. Everything Hawke had done up until that last bit of physical contact could have been dismissed as nothing more than the usual lewd behavior of a slightly drunk Hawke. However, those last few moments – seconds really – had clearly been deliberate. The circumstances may have seemed accidental, but the moment Seb had met his gaze, the other man had known that Hawke was sober and that his actions had been wholly intentional.

The moment Hawke knew the message had been received he withdrew himself utterly.

For the remainder of the game Hawke had sat there and altogether ignored the prince. He kept his eyes and attention trained on the card game – or Isabela, whenever the monk's flushed and flustered state proved too tempting for him. He never let on that he was _highly_ aware of the other man’s every shift of position; Every fidgety movement.

For five more hands he had joked and conversed and drank with the others at the table as though the Starkhaven prince didn't exist, and pretended not to watch with hungry anticipation as the man slowly fell apart.

He didn't let on. He knew the best way to keep him where he wanted him was to make Sebastian question himself. To make him wonder and worry at just what had actually happened. How much had been real? How much had he imagined? Why by Andraste's Light _would he_ imagine such things? These were the questions that he wanted the monk to be asking himself every time Hawke came to mind. He needed the man off-balance if he was going to lure him off the straight and narrow path.

Oh! But it had been excruciating to do.

Hawke's ass had seen the light at the end if its tunnel in the monk's eyes and it -along with his cock- had been barraging his mind with all the things they wanted him to do to that want-to-be-saint. All the things they would do to him, and all the things they would drive _him_ to do to _them_. The resultant boner had been pressed into Isabela's ass until he was damn near ready to scream with the need to just shove down his trews, hike her smalls to the side, and fuck her right there; sitting at the table in front of their entire company.

He'd refrained from taking any such action... _barely_.

Slowly, one by one, the others left. Fortunately Sebastian had been the first to go. His absence had helped Hawke get a handle on his raging thoughts some. But still... he now seriously _needed_ to get off, or his balls were going to be bluer than that handsome bastard's eyes come morning. Finally! Merrill had tripped off toward the Alienage and Hawke had been free to grab Isabela's hand, and start hauling her back to her room; desperate to bury himself in that luscious ass of hers when Varric had called out to them.

"I don't know -hic-what you managed to -hic-do to make him all twit-hic-chy like that, but it still ain't -hic-g-hic- gonna happen, Hawke." Varric had said, as he had staggered over to the keg of his good ale and had tried to fill his cup again. He had been extremely put out to discover the barrel was now empty.

"It'll happen, O-friend-of-mine.” When Varric had just snickered at him, Hawke had, had a genius idea “Care to try a little wager on it?" Varric was never one to turn down a betting opportunity.

"Heh. I've won -hic- enough silver off that -hic-one's will po-hic- power, already. Eighty silver says this time next month, you'll sti-hic-ll be walking straight." The dwarf had finally managed through his hiccuping

"Come on, old man! let’s make this _interesting_. Three gold pieces says he'll cave by next week."

The dwarf had just laughed. "Always a pl-hic- pleasure taking money from you h-hic-Hawke-hic-"

Now, alone at last, Hawke really didn't want to talk about plans, or bets, or Varric. He wanted to fuck. But Isabela had her stubborn face on. Well maybe if he led a horse to water...

He caught her up in his arms and dragged her down into the bed with him, kissing her senseless in the process. She broke the kiss, gasping for air.

"You. Talk. Now." She ordered even as her hands started in on the fastening of his leathers so that she might get at his under tunic and trews. After all, her need was nearly as great as his own. She been sitting on top of that rock hard prick of his for almost an hour, unable to _do_ anything about it. Her skillful fingers were flying in their haste to see the man naked. Hawke lay back and relaxed into the rogue's capable hands as he sorted out exactly what part to tell Isabela first.

"Well. First let me ask: when you said you wanted to see me underneath a 'brute of a man'... Was the 'brute' part of that statement a necessary requirement?"

"Again with this?" She said, shaking her head even as she pulled his shirt over his, leaving him lying naked beneath her. She leaned in and left a fast, dirty, kiss on his lips before sitting back and making short work of removing her own- granted not overly abundant- clothing. "I told you Hawke, I don-"

Hawke cut her off. "Cause Sebastian isn't exactly _beefy_..." Over top of him, Isabela froze, her arms still crossed over her chest, her tunic pulled up just enough to give Hawke a tantalizing view of the under side of her spectacular breasts.

"You’re joking." She said, her eyes as wide and round as he'd ever seen them. Hawke took advantage of her surprise to grab her hips and line her up with the head of his cock before slamming her down over the whole of his length. It was brutal and rough and they both cried out in shock as much as pleasure.

"I never joke about these things.” He panted as he rejoiced in the sudden shock of her sweet hot cunt. “Now move that sweet ass of yours or I won't tell you how we're gonna do it." That was all she needed to hear. With a swift movement the tunic was gone and her awe inspiring bosom was set free and she began to rock and pump on his cock; biting her lip and closing her eyes as she hunted down the motion that would see him hitting against that sweet spot insider her; that place where the center of her pleasure lay hidden.

Hawke lay beneath her, hypnotized by the swaying motion of her tits as her rhythm stabilized. Reveling in the soft smooth feel of her cunt wrapped around his aching prick. He waited till she went rigid above him with the first wave of her orgasm, before he started to take a more active role. His hands came up and took hold of those ample tits, digging his finger into the soft, yet firm, flesh. Bringing his thumbs around to tease at the stiff puckering of her nipples, until her orgasm broke over her again.

Each time she brought herself to completion on top of him he escalated his attentions. Until finally he took a leaf from Anders' book and called the tiniest spark of lightning to his fingers and just has she slowed to embrace the crash of her fourth climax he lay them over her breasts and watched as her world exploded at his touch. The sparks of electricity zinged through her sensitive breasts and straight down her spine to her core. This time, when her orgasm came, every muscle in her body went rigid with it. Now, with her pussy clenching hard around him – perfectly in time with her racing pulse, Fell felt his own need swell to its peak and he had no more time to let her see to her own satisfaction.

In a practiced move, Fell rolled his hips and over balanced her so that she collapsed to the bed as he rolled on top of her; never letting the flesh that connected them part. She writhed beneath him, nails digging into the flesh of his shoulders as he settled himself between her legs. She knew what was coming, and her body tried to arch up to meet him, even as her arms and legs wrapped around him and tried to pull him down to her. Trying to hold him close so that she might feel every inch of him.

He, shrugged off her efforts like they were a gentle breeze, then he set to work. He began to drive into her with a ferocity that could only be described as savage. Hard, fast, _brutal_ thrusts that saw his, spectacular length sheathed within her to the hilt; and each time he slammed home, saw Isabela's voice singing out for more. Her cries gaining in volume as his grunts became louder, their two voices elevating until half the common room below could hear them. Then, with a roar and a scream, Hawke drove Isabela over the edge for a final time. With her last gratified wail, Fell finally relaxed his strangle hold on his own climax; shuddering with each pulse of his cock as it jettisoned its load into her. His seed pouring out of him in wave, after hot wave, of blessed release; making his muscles quake in the aftermath.

Spent, the two lovers just lay there gasping. A Gregorian knot of tangled limbs and bedding.

Isabela, catching her breath, sighed contentedly. That was the closest they'd yet came to what she _might_ have been willing to described as _making love_. It hadn't been _quite_ there. The need had still been too urgent -the pace too brutal- but this had felt almost... equal. For once they were, both of them, _equally_ sated. It was shocking how appealing this feeling of... _contentment_ , was.

Isabela shook her head to rid herself of these sentimental thoughts. Whatever this thing with Hawke was turning into, she needed to get a hold on herself before it turned _her_ into some lovelorn fool. She wasn't meant to have that sort of life.

To distract herself she rolled so that she could look Hawke in the eye. "Okay. Now that, _that's_ out of the way.” She chuckled. “Tell me just _exactly_ how you plan to convince our dear sweet Choir Boy to break his vows. And, be warned, I've tried. I lost a good amount of coin to Varric already on this, as well as the cost of the two whores I paid to be making womanly love in his bed when he got in after evening vespers. And that's not even to mention the bribes I had to pay to sneak them into the Chantry sleeping cells in the first place."

"Well that was the first place you went wrong." He said chuckling sleepily up at her, his face still wearing a contented post coital half smile that made him look incredibly young, almost soft. Maker, but she forgot how young he was some times. She actually had to look away from his face as she continued, uncomfortable with where her thoughts were taking her again.

"Right after evening prayers, was a damn fool time, Bela. I know you think the Chant is duller than putrid dish water, but you have to understand that to Sebastian... hmm, how to put it? Ah – to Seb, the Chant of Light is like the first fresh rain of spring on the parched dessert ground of his soul. He derives sustenance from it. He’s rejuvenated by his faith. No, if you want him to crack you need to keep him as _far_ away from the Chantry as possible, for as _long_ as possible.

"So starting tomorrow, -you and me- _we_ are gonna put our ears to the ground and find ourselves a nice juicy bit of trouble as far up the Wounded Coast or Sundermount as as feasible. And on our way to and from it _you_ , my pet, are gonna get just as handsy with my ass as you've always wanted to. The whole way there, _and back_. He's not gonna be able to look my way without seeing your hand being positively _rude_. Think you can manage that? We'll make a little show of it for him." Isabela was now looking at her man as though he'd just told her there was a ship in the harbor with a bow on it and it was her birthday.

"You sailor-types are supposed to be good with elaborate knots, right? Good. But we'll get to that bit later ‘cause first we're going to need to buy some wine..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Closing A/N: Ahh! I'm sooooo sorry. I promised you man-smut and we haven't even gotten there yet! Did I mention I have a bad habit of turning little ideas into epics? Well it turns out even little ideas that are suppose to reside within ideas can get unreasonable huge. (What can I say, anticipation is my version of writer's foreplay.) I was going to post this as a oneshot but when I took it from my tablet to my computer saw the page count and ran a word counter over it I sort of had an 'Oh Shit!' Moment. So I'm breaking it up instead (what didn't you notice the big 'Part One: Isabela Wants' at the beginning? it was kinda of a clue...), part two, will be up soon, I promise. Next time: 'Part Two: Sebastian Caves'.
> 
> And a Special Uber Thanks to Enchant for helping me figure this site out and give everything a final once over...  
> (I drive her mental!) 
> 
> Till then my darlings! 
> 
> (Please Comment! Seriously – I don't care if all you say is 'TOO LONG!!' I just want to hear from you!)


	2. Part Two: Sebastian Caves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Opening A/N: So thank you all for not flooding me with hate over that little cliff hanger... Hopefully it didn't cause too many of you to just walk away in disgust. Please don't hate me *cowers in the corner giving you big puss-in-boots kitty eyes* is not my fault, it just how I was made!
> 
> Yeah, okay, it is totally my fault... But seriously I can't stop. I dreaded short stories in high school. They'd tell me no more than ten pages, double spaced, in size ten font, and I'd use 1.5 line spacing, cheat the font down to size nine, and I still have to delete three pages worth of stuff to come in at exactly ten pages long. 
> 
> Honestly, short stories are a nightmares scenario for me...
> 
> But enough of my rambling! We must off to sully Sebastian’s soul!
> 
> Warnings & Disclaimer: I said it all last time! If you're reading this then you've read that! It's all still true. What you were hoping it was gonna get better? (Or would that be worse?)

 

_Three Days Later_

 

Varric's eyes kept darting to that blasted cask that had been delivered to his apartment at this ungodly hour of the morning under Hawke's seal. Varric tried to ignore it as he fought the good fight in his never ending battle with the curse that was dwarven facial hair. However, he just couldn't overlook the puzzle it represented. It was far too large to be the Tevinter wine cask Hawke owed him for the other night, but for the life of him he couldn't think of any _other_ reason Hawke would be sending him whole barrels of wine.

Perhaps that crazy dog-lord, son of a bitch, was trying to cheap out on him. Thinking he'd impress his business partner by the quantity so that he might forget the quality. _As if_. Well, Hawke was in for a rude awakening if that were the case, it wasn't so easy to pull the wool over this dwarf's eyes!

If Varric had learned anything from his frequently shirked guild responsibilities, it was shipping marks, and the different insignia of the various port-authorities. There was simply no mistaking the big blunt brands used in the Imperium for anything else and _those_ were clearly nowhere in evidence on this barrel. In fact, if he had to hazard a guess he’d say that all the marks on this were from _within_ the Free Marches; Starkhaven precisely, if someone was asking him to lay money on it.

Varric scowled at the barrel's reflection in his mirror. Starkhaven vines weren't _bad,_ but they certainly weren't up to the caliber of Imperium vineyards, either. Void! Even Orlesian wine would have been a better substitute if Hawke was trying to pull one over on him. And that _still_ didn't make sense. If the man wanted to cheat him, why not just offer him a barrel of Kirkwall's own local swill from his cellars and be done with it? Maker knew, that stuff wasn't good for much besides cooking with, but what was the point of having something shipped in? His scowl deepened over the uncharacteristically witless move on Hawke's part, and he ended up slicing his jaw with the straight edge blade he used for shaving.

"Ancestors bloody well take it!" He snarled as the blood poured down his chin into his wash basin. "Nug humping mutherfuck!" He shouted as the sting turned into an ache. He snatched up a towel and held it to the cut which was bleeding heavily; far more than was warranted by a mere nick. _It_ _'s_ _too bloody early for this kind of crap._

By rights, he shouldn't even be out of his bed yet! At this hour of the morning he should still be sleeping the sleep of the well lubricated. As it was, the drink of the night before was still fogging his mind a bit, and that damn puzzle of a barrel distracting him- For fucks sake! He hadn't cut himself shaving since he was a teen and he'd barely had a beard to shave! And that was another thing! Why by all that was sacred was he even attempting to do this _now_? If he shaved this early in the blasted morning he'd be well on his way to joining his bearded brethren come late afternoon. This was all Hawke's fault! Him, with his damned couriers pounding on Varric's door at Maker-forsaken hours of the morning! Why, when that nug-shit-for-brains of an idiot human showed his furry mug he was gonna give him a piece of his mind!

Varric pulled the towel away from his chin to check the bleeding. It was a fair bit deeper than he had first thought and despite the pressure he'd been applying, he was still bleeding sluggishly. _Yet another downside of being a dwarf_ , he thought putting the towel to his chin again with an even firmer hand. Sure his skin was tougher than boiled leather but if anything ever did manage to break it, then he tended to bleed like a stuck pig. _Or maybe that_ _'s_ _just a side effect of_ _my_ _big bleeding heart that ma_ _kes_ _me_ _go all tender and soft on idiot apostates and their ilk._

A few more minutes of applied pressure and the bleeding had slowed to a sluggish sort of weeping. _Another minute should do it,_ he surmised, putting the towel back to his chin. Naturally that was when his own personal idiot-nug-shit-for-brains-furry-faced-dog-lord-apostate-human burst through the door with a bang that made Varric jump about a foot in the air; jostling the towel so that the cut began to the bleed with a renewed vigor.

"Well, I hope you're up for a long walk and a light purse, Varric. 'Cause I've both planned for you by day's end!" Hawke shouted. Absurdly cheerful, and _loud,_ considering the sun had barely breached the horizon. The Champion leaned back into the hall and bellowed loud enough to wake the dead, "Bela! Get that _magnificent_ ass of yours up, and down here on the double! I've got a present for you!" Returning his attention to the room he smiled broadly and began rubbing his hands together, in a manner the dwarf could only describe as sinister, at the sight of the cask. "It's here. Excellent! I was worried it wouldn't arrive until after we'd all set out."

"So that damned thing is for the Rivaini, then?" Varric growled, "Then why not have your bloody errand boys take it to her room? Wake her up and let me sleep." He pulled the towels away to check the bleeding and grimaced when the blood immediately reappeared. "And will you get over here and fix this? It's your bloody fault, anyway." Hawke, who'd gone over to the barrel of wine and started stroking it lovingly, turned and finally noticed that Varric was bleeding.

"Shit old man! What did you do? Decide you needed a slimmer jaw line?" Warm, rough hands took hold of his chin, tilting Varric's head back so the taller human could get a better view of the damage.

"Yes, Hawke. After that little proposition of yours I realized that all this rugged manliness was getting in my way. If only my features were more delicate and my hips were slimmer – think of all the extra attention I'd get!" Hawke smirked, if the dwarf's sarcastic tongue was any sharper he was going to cut himself all over again. "I cut myself shaving you nug-head! Now are you going to fix it or not?"

Hawke's fingers began to buzz with the familiar thrum of his magic even as he chuckled at the angry glare the dwarf was leveling at him. "You want I should leave the scar? It would be very dashing."

"And ruin my good looks? Don't you dare!" Healing magic was not Hawke's area, that was Anders', but when it came to Varric's healings he always went to Hawke whenever the option was available. Dwarven immunity to magic was usually considered a benefit, until you took healing into account. Any healing of Varric's injuries usually saw Blondie muttering curses against the dwarf's entire linage before long. But Hawke's magic felt different. Unlike the cool breezy clarity of Anders' healing magics, Hawke's felt more like a warm thick syrup being poured over his wounds. Not as pleasant, perhaps, but it got the job done markedly faster, and without the risk of angering his ancestors... Not that Varric thought they much cared, but you never knew.

"Andraste's Maker fucking ass, Hawke! You'd better have a damned _good_ reason for waking me and half of Lowtown this early; or I _swear_ I’m _going_ to cut out that cursed tongue of yours this time- just see if I don't!" Snarled Isabela's sleep roughened voice from his doorway. The Rivaini pirate half staggered into Varric's room clutching at her head, her eyes still visibly bloodshot. She took one look at the sight before her, and came instantly more awake, a mischievous little smile blossoming on her lips. "Why Hawke, making another play for our dwarf, I see." Suddenly it occurred to Varric what this looked like; him standing there, shirtless, while Hawke gazed intently down at his face, one hand cupping his chin while the other trailed fingers over his jaw.

_Shit!_

Apparently the look on his face said it all, because both the pirate and the apostate burst into gales of hilarity.

"Just healing up a little shaving accident, pet." Hawke said still chuckling as the dwarf stormed off to get his shirt.

"So what's this present you got me?" She inquired, prowling toward him.

"Slavers on the Wounded Coast. A whole _nest_ of them have taken up in a set of caverns just past where those Tal-Vashoth were camped out six years ago. Should take us the _whole_ day to take care of it, and get back." He replied, a slow wicked smile curling his lips as he watched Isabela's eyes grow round and begin to shine with delight.

When Varric came back from his bedchamber it was to the sight of Hawke pressed up against his wall, Isabela wrapped around him like she was his second skin.

"Anyone care to enlighten me as to just what is so special about this blasted barrel of wine?" Groused the dwarf over the strengthening moans coming from the randy pair of humans.

"Put on you walking boots, Varric." Hawk chuckled, still somewhat breathless from the kiss. "We're going to go visit some _nature_." Varric just groaned.

 

 

**.:ox-HMH-xo:.**

 

 

_If t_ _his_ _keeps up it_ _is going to lead to my early demise._

Sebastian was as sure of that fact as he was of the Maker's light. Hiding his embarrassment, he carefully picked himself up out of the dusty path on the Wounded Coast and tried to ignore the confused looks the others were giving him. Most pointedly, he ignored the soft chuckles that were emanating from the vicinity of Hawke and that brazen harlot of his. It was their fault entirely he was tripping over his own feet, and he was harboring some very uncharitable thoughts toward the pair just now.

It had been a hard couple of weeks for Sebastian. Locked away with his political advisers who insisted on telling him every devious little plot they were currently engaged in. All in order to help him reclaim his throne, of course. From morning prayers till the noon meal, he had no option but to sit and mediate their small-minded differences, so that they might actually be _useful_ and work together. Then, if Elthina didn’t have a task for him- which was more often the case these days, than it was not- his military's advisers would demand he spend the hours from mid-day till evening vespers closeted away with _them_. And a more stubborn bunch of close-minded fools had never walked Thedas; of this, Sebastian was certain. It seemed as though his every waking moment was wasted on some convoluted intrigue, malignant plotting, or refusing to accept outdated strategies involving far too much military might for the comfort of his soul.

Reclaiming his old life, it turned out, was proving _extremely_ dissatisfying – even if it _was_ the right thing to do. He was very nearly ready to climb the city walls in an effort to escape the constant assault of their bickering and petty scheming. So he had practically _leaped_ at the chance to escape them, when Hawke and his company had paraded into the Chantry and asked for his aid in clearing out a den of slavers on the far reaches of the Wounded Coast.

Finally _some worthy_ _ **action**_! He'd thought. Eagerly offering up his bow in the Champion's service.

He'd regretted his hasty acceptance almost immediately.

Hawke had greeted his over-enthusiastic agreement with such a dazzlingly bright smile it had momentarily blinded Sebastian, and yet it had also left him feeling distinctly... uneasy. When he'd come back to himself it was only to realize he'd gone and jumped from the stew pot to the fire, as his mind was flooded once again by the disturbing encounter at the weekly card game three nights before.

The events of that night began to play through his mind yet again; they had plagued his every waking moment and tormented him on an entirely _different_ level when he slept.

Sebastian had managed to convince his rational mind by the time he'd returned to the Chantry cells that night that he'd imagined much of it. Surely, it had all just been a misinterpretation on his part. His mind was too consumed with the manipulative maneuverings of his councilors and advisers, and now he was jumping at shadows. Seeing manipulation and scheming even amongst his friends, where none existed.

He'd been tired, and Hawke had been drunk. It was as simple as that.

Truly, it must have been an accident that Hawke's hand had ended up where it had; the man had just been trying to prevent himself from falling to the floor. And his mouth had been too close to Sebastian already when he'd overbalanced, so it was to be expected that the Champion's lips had been pressed up against his ear.

And yet...

Had he truly just _imagined_ the soft moist feel of the man's tongue against his ear? Laving at the shell; tasting his inner canal? Had it been nothing more than a construct of his over wrought mind, when he thought he felt Hawke's fingers tighten their grip as they traveled up his thigh and brushed over his groin before the man had righted himself? It was too strange for him to have imagined such actions so vividly... Yet surely, that _had_ to have been the case.

Then he would remember that _look_ the apostate had given him, and all his carefully constructed explanations came crashing down.

He'd managed to talk himself into believing it had all just been a fevered delusion of his mind, time and time again during the intervening days, only to have the image of Hawke's ruddy eye's burning directly into his own resurface. That brief moment of clarity in the chaos. Those eyes had been clear and sober and _hungry_. The eyes of a predator. Intense and direct; a cat's gaze as it hunkered down to stalk its prey. In that moment Sebastian had known, for absolute certain, that in this instance _he_ was Hawke's canary.

If that look had been _genuine_ , then there could be no denying that Hawke had made a pass at him. But that was a _ridiculous_ notion. Hawke was his friend -for all that they frequently disagreed- and he knew Sebastian had his vows to uphold.

Until his throne was retaken, he was still a sworn brother, his life to be lived chaste in the eyes of the Maker. And for all the man seemed incapable of restraining himself from flirting with anything that drew breath, he'd never known Hawke to take it beyond the occasional suggestive smile and saucy wink with _him_. Sebastian had always _said_ it was because Hawke understood that his faith and his vows still meant a great deal to him. But secretly he _admitted_ it was more likely Hawke had simply realized that Sebastian just wasn't interested in men, and the Champion had a notorious hatred of wasted effort. But then why would Hawke suddenly - _after years!_ \- start trying to put the moves on him, when he knew there was no hope of a favorable response?

Sebastian _must_ have been jumping at imagined shadows. However, if that _was_ the case then that would mean...

_No. It_ had _to have been real!_

_I_ _f_ that look and all the other subsequent actions were nothing more than fictions; delusions fabricated in his own mind... then that would surely mean he was _looking_ for such behavior from the other man? Why would _he_ suddenly start to imagine such things? He had _no_ interest in men. Never had. Even at his wildest -during his unrestrained youth- the closest he'd ever come to such things had been when he'd allowed an exceptionally pretty lass to convince him to share her with her other suitor of the time. During said encounter he and the other man had studiously agreed to keep their hands well clear of each other, and, even so, things had still been awkward and tense. Sebastian might very well have called the whole thing off, if the girl hadn't been so exceptionally pretty and... _talented_.

So why would _he_ imagine such advances coming from Hawke? It just didn't make any sense! Was he secretly harboring a subconscious desire for the man? _No. Never._ Frankly, while he saw nothing wrong with it per-say, Sebastian, just didn't understand the Champion’s fascination with other men.

What joy was there to be found in the hard unforgiving flesh of men? In rough skin and hard muscle. There was no soft acceptance; no gentle rounded curves he would wish to caress. No yielding tenderness or song-like moans to be expertly drawn out. Men were flat and hard; they grunted and groaned, hardly a sound track Sebastian cared to listen to during his lovemaking. So what point was there? Where was the joy of being with a lover if you didn't wish to hear them sing their pleasure of you?

It had taken the walk from the Chantry to the city gates for the monk to put his finger on the exact reason that brilliant smile Hawke had offered him had made the hairs rise on the back of his neck. He _knew_ that smile, had seen it before, though never directed at himself. It was the smile the Champion reserved for those he was courting. He'd seen that exact same unreserved happiness flashed at Anders, before the healer had unceremoniously tumbled into Hawke's bed. And now Hawke was directing his not inconsiderable charms toward Sebastian.

_Blessed Andraste that's a relief!_ He offered up his thanks in a silent fervent prayer, as he finally recognized the reality of the situation. This was confirmation! Not that Hawke's obvious intent wasn't something to be concerned about, but at least now he could be certain that it hadn't all been some construct of his own invention.

The knowledge that _he_ wasn't leaping to disturbing, erroneous, conclusions out of some buried subconscious desire to bed the man was a massive weight off of his mind. He'd been right; when Hawke had asked Sebastian if he 'wanted to see' he _had_ heard the offer as Hawke had meant it. Not as the offer to see the tattoo on his hip as it had appeared to be on the surface, but as an offer to find out if Hawke lived up to his reputation as a tiger in bed. Hawke _was_ trying to lure Sebastian into his bed.

But still the question remained – W _hy_? What had possessed the man?

Clearly his other liaisons with his companions hadn't played out well. Why would he risk their -granted somewhat tumultuous- friendship over something he _knew_ Sebastian had no interest in. He certainly wasn't about to let the Champion bend him over the bed and fuck him as he had the other two.

_Perhaps he wishes such treatment from you?_

That, was the first time Sebastian had stumbled over his own feet. In fact, he'd nearly fallen off the cliffs he'd staggered so hard at that errant thought; blushing at even the casual idea of such a thing. Anders had even come over and asked if he was feeling quite well. His face was very flushed... Was he running a fever? Sebastian had shrugged off the Warden healer's concern but privately he wondered if he wasn't running some sort of fever of the mind. It was the only rational reason such nonsense would voice itself, even in the private recesses if his own mind.

Where else would such an idea have even come from? Nothing in the history of his entire relationship with Hawke had suggested such a possibility even existed. It was clear from his interactions with Anders just who had been in charge of _their_ little tryst. Even to one as, admittedly, ignorant in such dealings as him, it had been staggeringly obvious which of them wore the pants between _those_ two. He couldn't be so certain with Fenris; but then no one _was_. None of them had even known that Hawke and Fenris had gotten involved until things with Anders had imploded so spectacularly and it turned out that the elf was the reason. Looking at the proud prickly elf, it was hard to imagine him submitting to anyone, but Hawke...

Hawke was a force of nature. The thought of such a strong, arrogant - _willful_ \- man meekly submitting to anything was surely the precursor to the end of days. There was simply no way he would be looking to Sebastian for something like _that_.

_Absolutely absurd_.

It was at that point that Sebastian had come to the rather shocking realization that he had spent the better part of their journey to the slavers den lost entirely in thoughts of Hawke and _sex_. Mortified at the directions his thoughts had steered him in, he'd made a conscious effort to climb out of his head and focus on his fellows and their surroundings

He soon wished he hadn't.

The first thing that he'd noticed upon escaping his disturbing reverie was that Anders and Fenris were both in _notably_ ill humor. As in notable for _them,_ which was to say they were walking down the coast radiating an unfocused murderous intent toward the world at large. True, not exactly an uncommon state for either the man or the elf; however, it was highly irregular that they were, _both of them_ , so clearly irritated. Usually only one or the other was like that, and then the other was invariably near deliriously happy as Hawke had decided to help _him_ with some task the other disapproved of. Which made no sense now. They were on their way to slaughter slavers – the only group every member of their company agreed on as being the very scum of the earth. Fenris, for certain, should have been eager to the point of _gleeful_ at the prospect of their impending extermination.

And yet...

Fenris was scowling hard enough that he was at risk of 'breaking his brood' as Varric would have said, and Anders had a scowl on his normally open face almost as hostile as the one that was habitually etched into the elf's sharper features. _They_ _look remarkably alike,_ _when they glower like that_. Not that Sebastian would ever dare say such a thing aloud. He valued his heart just the way it was – namely, beating and safely housed in his chest.

Sebastian had only a moment to wonder at this uncommon, commonality between the two rivals, however, for he then looked ahead and developed a much closer relationship with the stormy expression himself.

Isabela had her hand down Hawke's trews.

Bold as brass, the pirate was walking along the coastline -her and Hawke leading their little company into battle- with her hands actually _down_ the back of Hawke's leathers. In full view of everyone. And those trews were hardly one step removed from being leggings. They outlined her hand under the tight fabric abhorrently well. No need to imagine just exactly what she was doing in there as she teased and toyed with the man's rear end.

Maker! That woman was the very soul of indiscretion. _Has she_ _ **no**_ _sense of propriety?_ The prince lamented in his mind.

Not that Hawke was any better!

Sebastian's scowl deepened as he remembered with painful clarity the time Hawke and Isabela had started groping each other right in the middle of the Chantry. He'd thought he was going to die of shame the way Elthina had looked at him; as though it was somehow _his_ fault that those two couldn't control themselves.

Ahead of him Isabela did something that made Hawke's step falter.

And with a rush, all the carefully suppressed dreams Sebastian had been suffering from over the past three days, came surging to the surface of his thoughts again. Mostly images of Hawke in a myriad of positions, driving into the lusty wonton pirate with wild abandon.

But there were also snippets of much less _comfortable_ dreams.

Floating disconnected images: Hawke lying shirtless on a bed; his slender fingers toying with the sensitive skin of his pelvis, teasing the top of his low set sleeping breeches to reveal tantalizing glimpses of his new tattoo. The sense memory of Hawke's tongue on Sebastian’s ear, his hot breath washing over the sensitive skin at the nape of Sebastian's neck.

_Hawke, kneeling before him, his hands running up the archer_ _'_ _s loins, that hot breath bathing Sebastian's cock as he leaned forward to-_

A pulse of excitement shot through Sebastian's groin.

And that was the moment he'd tripped over his feet for true- and fallen _flat_ on his face. Right in the middle of the path, where there was nary a stone nor rut on which he could blame his miss-step. For a moment he'd had to just lie there in the dirt. Too mortified at his thoughts and his body's horrifying reaction to them, to even consider getting up. Maker! What was wrong with him? He could feel a slight blush already making itself at home on his cheeks and he just _knew_ that if he looked at Hawke right then he was going to turn a lovely shade of red – one dark enough to put roses to shame, judging by the heat under the surface of his skin.

It had taken a supreme effort to sit up; maintaining the last few shreds of his dignity.

"Problem, Seb?" Hawke called, his voice brimming over with false concern that never-the-less failed to entirely hide the note of mirth beneath it. Damn that man. He clearly suspected the reason behind the prince's clumsiness, and he was enjoying the prince's discomfort. Sebastian rose to his feet as briskly as he could manage, bending all of his attention to the task of brushing off the worst of the dust from his armor.

"I'd have thought there were better ways to go about making you armor less shiny, Sebastian. Rolling around in the dust doesn't seem like the best method." Merrill chirped a little to his left. Sebastian shot her a withering look. He wasn't in the mood for her particular brand of silliness just now. "I'm just saying is all." She stuttered her eyes growing huge with surprise. Sebastian didn't much like her, she knew, but he'd never looked at her with quite so much open malice before.

"We should carry on." He said keeping his tone as level as possible as he started to walk past the rest. He quickly outpaced them, eager to take up the point position so that he might be spared any further provocation on the part of Hawke and his harlot.

"Are you quite alright, Sebastian?" Aveline asked falling instep beside him. The big warrior woman looked genuinely concerned for his well-being. It was entirely possible she hadn't noticed what Hawke and Isabela were up to, or perhaps she was just slow to connect their behavior with his uncharacteristic lack of grace. "That is the second time you've missed your footing this trip. It is unlike you."

"I appear to be somewhat out of sorts today, is all." He replied keeping his eyes on the road directly before him. He wasn’t the best of their company for spotting and disarming traps, -that was Varric- so he kept his eyes peeled less he miss one and further his embarrassment, by triggering it.

"I'm just saying, that I've never seen you this clumsy."

"Yes. I understand that, Guard _Captain_." He sneered. "Was there something else?" His voice took on a flinty edge. He was no more in the mood for the woman's mothering lectures, than he was for the maleficar's inane babbling.

"Watch yourself, is all." She snapped clearly offended by his uncommon rudeness "I don't fancy having to explain to that lot of jackals you call advisers that their future Prince took a knock to the head ‘cause he was 'out of sorts'."

"That would be Hawke's job would it not?" He asked archly. Aveline just scoffed.

"Hawke's hardly the most responsible person at the best of times." Muttered the guard captain, looking over her shoulder in the direction of their fearless leader and his playmate, who were currently both chortling like a pair of hormone crazed teenagers. "And now is not the best of times." Aveline finished, flinching at whatever it was Isabela was doing to make Hawke snicker like that.

"Hey, Hawke!" Varric shouted from the back of the group, where he was lagging a bit behind. "How about a break! I don't know about the rest of these long-legged idiots but _I_ could use a drink, and some shade. And my feet certainly wouldn't say no to a rest before we go charging into battle." The dwarf groaned, playing up for sympathy. "And maybe you and The Rivaini could go find a nice little cave to sneak off to. Take the edge off, or something. Not that the shows not amusing -Maker knows I'm not complaining- but it's also distracting. Not the best state when preparing for a fight, wouldn't you agree?"

"I know a place! There are caves and the beach has trees for shade! It's this way!" Merrill didn't wait for anyone to agree, just turned and darted off down a game trail that made its way down to one of the few slim stretches of real beach along the ragged coastline. With a small shake of his head at the elf's blithe disregard for her own safety, Varric called after her.

"Hold up, Daisy! Let me scout the damn path!" With chuckles and small shakes of their head the others all turned to follow after the dwarf and Dalish elf.

It _was_ a very nice little spot. The trees came right down the cliff face to the narrow strip of sand, shading the beach perfectly from the sweltering midday heat. The water was calm as it lapped at the coarse sand, which was liberally stocked with driftwood and large stones; perfect places for weary adventurers to sit and take a rest. Packs were set down, and food pulled out, as everyone settled in for a brief rest. Sebastian sat himself a bit apart from the majority of the group, a rather blatant attempt to spare himself their ribbing. He doubted it would do much good but, set apart, he'd at least have the option to _pretend_ to ignore them.

Luck was on his side though it seemed, as Anders' then decided take this opportunity to start on his usual diatribe about the plight of mages in the Circle.

Never before had Sebastian been so happy to hear the man's overbearing rhetoric, and he actually murmured a brief prayer to the Maker in thanks. The familiar whiny tone to the mage's words instantly drew groans from the rest of the company, even as they settled in to argue their own points. Even Fenris sounded grateful as he joined in the dispute.

It didn't take Sebastian long to figure the reason; Hawke and Isabela had slipped away from the group as soon as everyone had settled. Clearly the others were all hoping that they might get engrossed in a vehement debate and drown out any stray moans and cries that might carry back to them.

_Maker, give me strength!_ Sebastian pleaded, rolling his eyes to the heavens before he turned his beryl gaze toward the sea. That was _just_ what he needed now; to have to sit and listen to their infamously vocal fornication. It was _almost_ enough to make him want to go over and join the main group whose voices were already gaining strength as the squabble grew heated; the perfect shield against inescapable eavesdropping.

As it turned out, it was all of it -the prayers and the bickering-, a wasted effort.

Hawke and Isabelawere making a concerted effort to be quiet.

They had found a spot pressed up against the cliff-face; hidden from the view of the main group by a few trees and shrubs but in full view of the rogue prince. A fact Sebastian became aware of when a flash of movement and a soft moan drew his eyes away from the soft ebb and flow of the surf to an entirely different sort of surge and fall.

The prince's eyes grew wide with shock at the picture they had carefully framed for him.

Hawke was taking Isabela up against the rock face of the cliffs. His leathers unlaced and shoved down just enough so that the pirate was able to impale herself upon him; braced against the stone so that both of her feet were held clear of the ground. She'd taken advantage of the leverage and her legs were wrapped around the mage's slim hips as he thrust into her with short hard jerking thrusts. The pirate was, never-the-less, clearly enjoying herself. Hawke must have been in the perfect position to hit her in just the right spot, for despite the small tightly controlled movements the lusty pirate was already gleaming with sweat; her dark skin flushed darker with pleasure.

They weren't long about it.

Sebastian barely had time to swallow, convulsively, before Isabela's head was thrown back and her back was arching up off the rock; her orgasm implied in the sudden taught strain of her muscles and the hand she stuffed in her mouth in order to stifle her cry.

Sebastian swallowed again in a mouth suddenly dry with a nervous kind of want. Damn them! They were doing this on purpose! It was some twisted game the two of them had cooked up to see if they could make him snap. Well to the void with them! He was no blushing _virgin_ to be toyed with. He'd been the terror of the Starkhaven whore houses and brothels since he was fifteen! He may have given up such pleasures for his faith; but there was nothing they could do he hadn't already seen before.

Part of him that was still the devout servant of the Maker was shouting at him to leave. To walk out on their games and leave them to their rutting. But the proud voice of The Prince of Starkhaven,woken up by his anger and his pride, demanded that Sebastian not be driven off by these childish antics. If they thought they could make him blush and run him off like a scared little novice, they were sorely mistaken! He _would_ sit here and watch them; and he would remain _unmoved_.

Sebastian settled deeper into his seat calling on his favorite litany of the Chant of Light so that it might help cool his blood. _O merciful Andraste, most beautiful bride of our Maker, lend us your strength, in this, our hour of need. Shed your light on us blind sinners that we may see the errors of our ways..._

The Chant of Light washed over his soul like cool water poured over his fevered brow, washing the filth from his mind. When next he opened his eyes, they were cool with an icy resolve bolstered by Andraste herself. He would not let their behavior tarnish his faith any further, no matter what they attempted to shock him with. He would sit and watch and pray for them as they continued in their hedonistic display. He had no doubt there was yet more they intended him to see, after all, _Hawke_ hadn't cum yet.

Lost in the near ecstasy of his prayer Sebastian failed to notice when his own tongue slipped from behind his teeth and licked his lips in anticipation.

Isabela let her hand fall from her mouth as she came down from her climax, and Hawke's mouth surged forward to claim it, kissing the pirate as though she were the very oxygen he breathed. As he continued to move inside her with casual, almost lazy, thrusts, he brought a hand to her cheek and caressed her softy; his fingers gentle and almost timid. She tilted her head into his kiss, their mouths moving as one, tongues tangling together. The undeniable passion and shameless _need_ of that kiss, gave Sebastian pause.

Then the kiss broke, Isabela’s head arching back as Hawke changed his rhythm. And in that moment Seb saw something in the look the Champion gave the racy duelist. Something he was entirely unprepared for.

_Adoration._

Sebastian had been prepared for every filthy raunchy scenario they could have thrown at him, but this... he was defenseless against _this_. The monk gasped quietly, the litany stuttering to a halt in his mind at the meaning of such a look.

It had never before occurred to him that Hawke might actually be _in love_ with the wench.

For a moment, a sad sort of pity swelled in his chest. That was a cruel joke Hawke's heart had played on the man; to fall for a creature so incapable of offering any real lasting affection in return, as Isabela. His shocked gasp at this epiphany was loud enough to carry to the two lovers for they suddenly turned to look at him as one.

Two sets of hungry piercing eyes leveled at him with a clear and predatory intent; quickly driving any thoughts of pity from his mind. He fumbled in his mind, trying to find his place in the Chant again, but his bright and shining new resolve had cracked somewhat in the face of Hawke's obvious - _tragic_ \- love and he could no longer bring his mind to bear. Hawke smiled an arrogant, cocky smile at the shocked look in the prince’s face assuming it was for their brazen behavior. Then the apostate leaned in and whispered something into Isabela's ear. The she-devil smiled as she brought her hand to Hawke's mouth.

This time Sebastian couldn't even hope to suppress the shiver that ran down his spine as Hawke's lips parted. He watched in a desperate, inescapable fascination as the Champion's tongue darted out to lick at the two sea-roughened digits the pirate presented him with, before his lips closed around them and he drew them into his mouth; sucking at them with obvious relish. The image which had tripped him up on the path surged forth in his mind once more.

Only now it was a dozen times worse.

Now, with this new found wealth of visual information, the hazy dream came into sharp focus and drowned out Sebastian's prayers entirely. Now his mind could focus on nothing else but filling in the missing details his vague imaginings had been unable to conjure. How Hawke's cheeks looked as they hollowed. How his eyes closed to slits as he sucked her fingers into his mouth. The languid unhurried pace at which he moved his head, keeping rhythm with the slow deep thrusts of his hips into her woman-hood. But when Sebastian’s subconscious mind dredged up the sense memory of just how moist, and hot, the man's mouth had felt against his ear... his flagging control shattered to a million pieces.

A small groan escaped his parted lips, as his blood pooled south in a rush, that left him feeling faint. His cock coming to sharp attention with a speed he'd not have thought possible, as he watched those dark fingers slide in and out of that wicked mouth.

In.. and out.

In... and out.

It was mesmerizing and the sight of it was making his cock ache with jealous desire. He'd never been so envious of anything in his entire life, as he was of those fingers at that moment.

And it was about to get _so_ much worse.

With a mischievous glance his way, Isabela, was taking her saliva slicked fingers from the man's mouth and reaching down his back, once again sliding her hand beneath the mage's leathers. For the barest moment Sebastian was offered a tantalizing view of the dark and swirling lines of the man's tattoo before the cloth of his under tunic fell over the skin again. Hawke laid his head on Isabela's shoulder, his eyes never leaving Sebastian's face as he tilted his hips back so as to give the woman better access.

The monk knew exactly when those finger found their mark. Hawke's breathing suddenly shifted to a rapid shallow panting and his eyes grew hugely round, their signature reddish color utterly consumed by the arousal widened pupils, until they appeared to be nothing more than huge black pits of burning want where his eyes use to be. As the pirate’s fingers entered him a sweat broke out over Hawke's neck and brow that had nothing to do with the heat of the day, and the man shuddered delightedly; calling forth a sympathetic shudder and sweat on Sebastian's own brow and spine.

For a moment they were all frozen. Sebastian unable to move or even turn his head from the sight of Hawke trembling with want, his darkened, burning gaze fixed on Sebastian's face as the pirate wench drove her fingers into him even as the mage's cock was buried in her. All it took was a soft, unfathomably appealing, groan passing through Hawke's lips to break the stillness and suddenly the two loves were swept up again in the whirlwind of their passion.

Isabela’s hand began to pump into the mage with an urgent intent, making Fell's hips jerk reflexively so that he buried himself to the hilt within her. Thereupon Hawke's own needs ripened and he began to grind into her like a man possessed. Soon the pirate was clinging to him her eyes fogged over in bliss as she desperately tried to hold her one hand steady while stuffing the other in her mouth to stifle her growing whimpers of pleasure, her second release fast approaching. Hawke's hips were pistoning between her fingers and her cunt, clearly driving the man to the precipice of his own control; he buried himself in one, only to draw back and impale himself on the other.

Again, they weren't long about it.

With a ragged groan, Hawke was cumming, biting down hard enough on Isabela's shoulder to draw blood in an effort to mute his own cry.

Sebastian watched; transfixed by that moment of naked vulnerability. His own breath coming in sharp excited little pants, his arousal now throbbing inappropriately against the back of his Andraste belt buckle. A telling little moan whispered past his own lips, as Hawke's legs buckled and he fell to his knees – pulling Isabela clear of the stone at the last moment.

Maker, what a sight they made! Hawke looking incredibly young and debauched, his breath coming in great ragged gasps; Isabela, the very incarnation of lust, draped over him like a second skin, peppering his face with soft touches of her sinful lips.

Now there was nothing for it but to admit that the sight of The Great Champion of Kirkwall reduced to this trembling vulnerable boy was driving Sebastian’s arousal to a height he had not previously imagined possible. He wanted to see more. Sweet Andraste! He wanted him. He actually _wanted_ the man. Wanted, to be the _cause_ of that soft, lost, look in Hawke's eyes...

_Maker!_ _What have they_ done _to me?_

The lovers came to rest, Hawke on his knees, Isabela straddling his thighs, stroking his wild unkempt hair soothingly as he continued to shudder with the force of his orgasm. Each tremor that wracked the apostate's body making Isabela purr with happiness and Sebastian's cock twitch with an almost painful swell of desire.

Hawke turned his head, his hazy gaze meeting Sebastian's again, offering the archer a saucy wink. Then the Champion reached down and brought Isabela's hand back to his mouth and, never taking his eyes from Sebastian's – eyes which were full of desire and dark promises –he _licked_ her fingers clean.

Sebastian surged to his feet. Whether it was to storm over to the pair of them and take what was owed him for this little stunt of theirs, or to flee from the sight of such casual depravity, he wasn't entirely certain. All he knew was he could no longer remain as he was. They had driven him to the point where action - _any action! -_ must be taken.

Unfortunately he'd never been this aroused in his armor before and had no way of knowing that the sudden shift in position was going to take him from acute discomfort to exquisite agony, when that damned belt buckle rocked on its hinge and caught the throbbing head of his cock, squeezing it like a vice. Shocked by the unexpected, almost painful, pressure he half doubled over again immediately, loosing a hissing groan of acute distress. He only just managed to stop himself from bringing a hand to his poor desperate prick to sooth it as he sunk back down to his seat.

That groan, much louder than anything made by Hawke or Isabela during the entire episode, in combination with his sudden rush of movement from his statue like stillness of moments before, instantly drew the gaze of the other party members who all turned to look at him with expressions ranging from concerned to confused.

So it was that they were, all of them, witness to what happened next.

Looking up Sebastian found Hawke was standing next to him, reeking of sex and looking undoubtedly shagged out, the ties to his leathers still hanging loose and un-knotted. It would have been incredibly plain to the others that Hawke had just walked out of the brush from where he'd obviously just finished fornicating with Isabela in full view of Sebastian. The lay brother flashed his tormentor one pleading look, knowing his cheeks were flushing under the scrutiny of their compatriots.

_No More!_ He begged of the Champion with his eyes. _Mercy!_

But Hawke was merciless. His eyes shining with an impish light, the mage reached down taking the mortified archer's hand in his own, leaning in till his breath bathed the side of Sebastian’s face in a hot, moist, caress and said in a darkly suggestive voice, “Need a _hand_ , Seb?”

And Sebastian came in his smalls.

 

 

**.:ox-HMH-xo:.**

 

 

Hawke poured himself another glass of the surprisingly good Starkhaven zinfandel, savoring the rich full bodied aroma. _Seb has a surprisingly excellent taste in wines._

It had been a good day. No. strike that. It had been a _perfect_ day. Things had progressed swimmingly. Better than Hawke could have even anticipated or planned for, in fact.

The soon to be slaves had all been freed, and their captors were all _quite_ dead.

The battle itself had been glorious; a feast laid out for Fell's bloodthirsty soul. Hawke's people had swooped down upon the ill prepared fools and slaughtered them all. Everyone had been in top form, and the scum hadn't stood a candles chance in the void.

Fenris had fallen upon the hated slavers like an avenging fury, his lyrium bands glowing and his sword sparking as he tore through his opponents. The elf had radiated violence and rage in an almost tangible aura that made Fell's mouth water as he witnessed it, even as it made the warrior's enemies stagger back and quake with fear. Anders too had been _magnificent_ ; seemingly driven to match the elf in sheer destructive force for once, abandoning his normal role as healer. Instead the Grey Warden had stormed the field calling on his primal magics; stealing Fell's thunder - _literally_ -, and conjuring a tempest of such staggering power that Hawke was sure the clouds and lighting would have been visible even all the way back to the city walls.

Fell had laughed as Anders usurped his favorite spell and released an entropic cloud over the battlefield instead; reveling in the screams and panic it instilled in its victims as he and Isabela slid into defensive stances flanking the Grey Warden. Fell's staff, with its huge Axe blade, gleaming with wicked menace and Isabela's daggers crawling with the residual lightning from Anders’ spell; both of them prepared to cut any man down who dared attempt to disrupt the blond mage's casting.

Fell remembered laughing with unholy glee as he watched the devastation his two ex-lovers rained down on their adversaries. Who knew that sexually derived frustration would put such a keen edge on his people? He’d have to do this more often!

Even now, sitting in the middle of the celebratory party in Varric’s suite at the Hanged Man, surrounded by his people and no few Guardsmen who'd arrived with Donnic at Aveline's invitation, the memory of the awe inspiring ruin his team had wrought was enough to make his blood quicken. Why, even Aveline, herself had been cackling like a madwoman as she charged into the fray.

Varric and Merrill had used the cover provided by the chaotic storm to flank the confused and panicking slavers; blocking off the only other exit from the little valley, and hemming them in so that they couldn't escape the reach of Anders' and Fell's baleful magics. Merrill's vines tangling and catching any man who tried to escape the carnage while Varric hailed down bolts and insults upon their heads. ('Like shooting fish in a barrel! You know just how to show Bianca a good time don't you, Hawke?!')

As for Sebastian...

Hawke's nethers stirred in appreciation at the memory of how beautiful and lethal the enraged Prince of Starkhaven had been. Like Anders, Sebastian, too, had abandoned his normal tactics. By the time they made it to the slavers camp Sebastian had been so deliciously angry with him and Isabela -and the _acute_ embarrassment they'd caused him- that the primal _need_ to feel something die under his hand had been too great to be ignored. So instead of finding the high ground and raining down the Maker's fury on their foes as was his usual want, Sebastian had pulled out a pair of devilishly cruel looking daggers and charged into the fray right alongside the warriors.

And he was the Maker's own Hand of Judgment with those daggers. Dancing amongst the tides of the battle with phenomenal grace and precision. Weaving between the two sword fighters like an extension of their wills; cutting, slashing, and maiming any man who dared cross his path. Wherever his blades fell, so too did one of their enemies. And in the end, the Starkhaven prince had stood in the middle of the field of carnage, his blue eyes blazing with an incendiary fire that put the other worldly glow of Justice and Fenris' Markings to shame; his normally pristine auburn hair hanging raggedly around his handsome gore splattered face and his shiny white armor tinted pink, dripping with blood...

To Fell's eye, it had been a... _divine_ sight. _Such a pity we were so near the water,_ he mused _,_ _I'd have liked to admire that look longer._

Unfortunately, after the battle lust had left him, Seb had clearly been eager to wash himself clean of the day's events; both physically and spiritually. No sooner did a ragged cheer from their fellows go up but Seb had turned toward the ocean and simply walked waist deep into the surf – armor not withstanding – and began viciously rinsing the evidence of the violence he'd allowed himself from him with an urgency that probably would have alarmed the others had they been paying even a speck of attention. But now in the face of their overwhelming victory the rest were too caught up in the celebratory air to notice the way the Starkhaven prince was desperately trying to cleanse the soil of the battle from his skin, armor, and soul.

Hawke had watched with a mild amusement as Sebastian started offering up urgent fevered payers to the Maker. By this point the lay brother's fevered words had long passed the point of merely _asking_ the Maker for his strength and forgiveness; Hawke would call what the man was doing now nothing shy of _begging_ for it.

For a moment Hawke was worried they _might_ have over stepped. That he'd broken the willful prince and the man would now run scared from them at the first opportunity. But his fears were quickly laid to rest when he and Isabela had exchanged a heated kiss on the shore-line to a host of wolf whistles and cat calls from Varric and Merrill, and jovial insults from the others. For above the rabble that spectacular Starkhaven brogue had been raised in a full throated chant which the prince had all but _hurled_ at them; some scathing passage about those who had fallen from grace. That had made Hawke chuckle even as he whispered to Isabela that they'd need to dial it down for the trip back, or the prince was likely to murder him before they got him anywhere near a bed.

 Truthfully, neither Hawke nor Isabela had believed things would go as far as they had on their little excursion to the slavers camp. Hawke had thought he'd let Isabela fondle him a bit and get Sebastian thinking about what lay beneath Hawke's leathers, so he'd be just that small step closer to breaking when Fell finally propositioned him. But Isabela's hand had had a more arousing effect on both of them than either of them had anticipated; though Fell suspected that had as much to do with the regard of the others as anything she was actually _doing_ to him. Never-the-less he found himself eager to follow Varric's advice when the opportunity presented itself that he might take her on the beach. When they'd notice Sebastian sitting apart, it had seem to the two of them that he was practically daring them to test him further.

Fucking as the slowly cracking Prince of Starkhaven had watched had been treacherous. Under Sebastian’s hot blue gaze Fell had almost disgraced himself; very nearly shooting his load like a nervous teen the moment Isabela's slick fingers had prodded the puckered flesh of his ass. As for when she had truly breached the tight muscle he'd found his thoughts consumed by the idea that the tall Starkhaven prince was looking on with a slowly awakening hunger in his eyes. His mind supplying him with vivid account of what it would be like to finally have the archer's cock taking the place of those fingers in a few hours’ time. His orgasm, when he'd finally let it come, had been devastating.

Between that, and the way the fight had made his blood sing, Hawke had been exceptionally eager to get back so that they could put the final stage of his plan into action. He was done playing games. He wanted the man, and he done all he could to insure the tall archer wanted him. Now he just had to give Sebastian a final small taste and convince the prince that he'd be unable to think of _anything_ else until he'd partaken of the whole feast.

Hawke's eyes hooded as he watched the prince drain his third glass of wine. _Not long now_. He thought, with a pleased little smirk.

Of course after the day he had Hawke knew the prince had been more than desperate enough to forsake his sobriety. The archer had actually stormed into the Hanged Man with the rest, declaring himself in _need_ of a drink. And when Hawke had presented the company with a barrel of wine from his own stock to celebrate their spectacular victory, Sebastian hadn't even thought twice about accosting the first glass Fell had hastily poured, and taking half of it in a swallow.

Oh! The _shock_ on the man's face as his tongue was bathing in then rich flavor of the favorite vintage from his youth, had been worth all the preaching Fell had ever had to endure from the monk. A small moan had escaped those plump lips of his and he'd gotten this longing, dreamy look in his eyes as he wordlessly handed the glass back to Fell and motioned that the Champion should pour him another.

“You're an evil man, Hawke.”

“Taste something you like?” He'd asked his eyes gleaming with mischief. Sebastian just took the glass from him and walked to the other side of the room where he'd promptly gotten himself embroiled in an argument with Aveline, determined to ignore Hawke and Isabela for the rest of the evening. Hawke was sure that the monk had only actually come into the Hanged Man to guzzle as many mugs of the swine piss the bar owner served under the heading of 'ale' in order to ensure himself a dreamless sleep, before fleeing Hawke's and Isabela's presence as soon as humanly possible.

Hence why Hawke had had a barrel of Starkhaven wine delivered to Varric's suite. It was the perfect excuse the prince needed to stay and set about getting buzzed – not drunk. Drunk was useless as far as Hawke's purposes went. But uninhibited was a necessity if he intended to get anywhere. A good wine – his _favorite_ wine – was almost impossible for any man to chug, and it was very hard to walk away when such a wine was flowing into your cup freely – and _for_ free – after years of self-imposed sobriety.

“Aiming to collect the whole set, I see.” Anders' voice beside him made him start a little. Hawke turned to look at the healer and was surprised to see no trace of hostility in his expression. Just a forlorn look of acceptance in his soft brown eyes. “Tell me one thing before you rush off to break another man's heart-”

“I never intended to hurt you.” Hawke muttered looking away. He disliked being reminded of his failings; and his affair with Anders _had_ been a miserable failure on his part. For he damned well knew he had hurt the man. It may not have been his intention in the start – he had always considered Anders a friend – but as things progressed it had become staggeringly obvious that heart-ache was the only possible outcome if Hawke continued to use him in seeking his vengeance against the elf. He'd realized that and done it anyway; Anders knew it. It was an openly acknowledged mistake and it made him mad to be reminded. He turned back to the healer with a scowl. “If you recall, _you_ left _me_. I was perfectly happy the way things were.”

“Oh, so you were _happy_ living that lie, then?” The mage sniped before pinching the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “That's neither here nor there. What's done is done.” Anders said, a scowl briefly shadowing his eyes. “I just don't want to see it happen again, Hawke. Sebastian may be a pompous prig most of the time, but he's also a _good_ man. He doesn’t deserve you making a fool out of him.”

“He's a big boy, Anders, I'm sure he can take care of himself.” Hawke snapped, trying to dismiss the issue. He didn't intend for this to go anywhere with the prince. All this thing with Seb was, was him scratching an itch and keeping Isabela happy at the same time. Anders, with his tendency to drag emotion in to every little thing, was killing his buzz.

“Just promise me you'll be upfront with him.” Anders demanded. “No lies. No pretty words to get him to give you whatever it is you want from him.” A soft healer's hand lunged out and grabbed hold of Hawke's chin, forcing Fell to meet his eyes, when it appeared as though the other mage was just going to brush his words aside. “Promise me. Just stow the charm for ten minutes and make sure he knows what he's getting into.”

“Fine!” Hawke hissed, now desperate to get away from the man. Not only was he killing his buzz, but Sebastian had turned and was walking –a little unstably– toward the door. _If he gets away after all the work I've put in to getting him here..._ he growled at Anders in his head “Fine I'll make sure to stop and tell him that I expect him to fuck me senseless then piss off. _Happy_?” He snarled, his eyes glued to the gleam of Seb's armor as its owner made his way across the hall, headed for the stairs and the common room. Fell wrenched himself free from Anders' suddenly nerveless fingers and tried to catch up to the archer before he could make it all the way down those steps. The stairs were the perfect location; dark, narrow, relatively private. If he made his final move there, they'd be golden.

He didn't notice the way the Healer looked after him; the hurt in those melted chocolate eyes, his lips pressed into a thin bitter line at what Hawke had said. The realization of just _what_ Hawke was trying to get Sebastian to do like a slap in his face. Not that Hawke cared. Anders swallowed the painful lump in his throat, and whispered a quiet “No. Not really, Fell.” to the Champion's retreating back. Watching the man walk away from him as though he were nothing... again. Varric saw it though.

“Hey, Blondie.” The dwarf called. “Come, grab a seat. I got some new Templar jokes, and you look like you could use some cheering up.”

“Not now, Varric. I'm not in the mood.”

 

 

**.:ox-HMH-xo:.**

 

 

Sebastian staggered a little at the top of the stairs, popping his hand out to steady himself before he could tumble down them head first. The little course of adrenaline his near fall sent coursing through his body making him giggle. Maker he was _giggling_! The sound turned to a groan at the realization that the wine had gone to his head far more than he had initially thought. He was out of practice. He used to be able to drink much more than this without even batting an eye; clearly his tolerance had suffered for his long forbearance from strong drink.

With a small shake of his head and a rueful chuckle he managed to compose himself and started down the stairs with more surety to his steps. He needed to get back to the Chantry and pray. A lot. Probably confess too. This day had been such a ride for his poor battered spirit. He needed to cleanse himself of the depravity and unbridled brutality Hawke and Isabela had managed to stir in him.

A small shudder ran though him as he recalled the way the fight had gone. He'd never lost his control and reveled in the violence like that before. True, he often thrilled with the excitement of the battles he'd fought at Hawke's side; but never had he been caught up in that same blood thirsty _compulsion_ to spill the life blood of their foes, that Hawke seemed to suffer from.

He'd been so confused and embarrassed during that final leg of the trip to the slaver camp. His shame burning brighter on his cheeks with each step they took; the cold sticky mess in his smalls a constant reminder of his disgrace. That, coupled with the knowing - _pitying_ \- looks the men in the group kept shooting at him, only furthering his mortification, fanning the flames of his ire to an ever greater intensity. Sebastian probably should have counted himself lucky that Aveline and Merrill seemed not to have grasped the full extent of exactly what had happened between him and Hawke on the beach, but the others had all clearly recognized the distinctive trembling shudder of a man spilling his seed when Hawke had pulled him to his feet, whispering in his ear, and making him stagger with the force of the very unwelcome, very public, orgasm.

He'd never been so humiliated in his life. His pride had _demanded_ retribution. It was simply their poor luck, that the slavers made such easy targets for his wroth. In the end _they_ had paid Hawke's debt. When he'd come back to himself he'd felt somewhat sickened at what he'd done. That bitter nauseating taste had left him though when they’d found the poor beaten wretches the men had been holding to sell into slavery. Mothers with babes in arms! The foul creatures had gotten what they deserved... even if it had been somewhat more _bloody_ than usual.

Seeing to the comfort and safety of the poor frightened flock of humans on their return trip to Kirkwall had been a balm to his battered soul; but it only went so far.

Sebastian had turned to drink for the rest.

He probably should have gone straight to the Chantry upon their return to the city, but the thought of how Elthina would look at him had been more than he could cope with. He'd needed something to distance himself from any further shame he might be about to endure at the hands of his mentor. He _needed_ to be numb.

The decision to get drunk had been a mistake. That had become apparent the moment the wine had touched his lips.

Hawke had obviously laid a very careful trap for him; and, as usual when confronted with a trap, Sebastian had blindly stumbled straight into it. The moment that wine washed over his tongue he knew he wouldn't be able to walk away. Each sip he took brought with it that exquisite ripe berry taste that his tongue demanded that he take two more. Just a few more sips, and he would leave... What harm was there in _one_ more glass? It tasted _so_ good, and the company was excellent for once; everyone was laughing and joking. Surely he could remain just a bit longer; perhaps one more glass of that delectable wine before he went.

Soon, the jovial air of celebration had caught him up and it had rapidly become clear that he was definitely a bit sloshed.

Then, all at once, it dawned on the prince: He _needed_ to leave before Hawke could make his next move; before the trap was truly sprung and captured him completely. He'd realized this with an almost clairvoyant clarity. In a rush he'd simply abandoned the last of his final glass of wine – was it his third or fourth? - offered some half-cocked excuse to Aveline and turned and left the room.

_Fled_ the room, more like.

He was halfway down the stairs to the common room when, with an audible snapping sound in his mind, Hawke's trap officially closed around him.

“Leaving without saying goodbye to your host, Seb?” Hawke tsk-ed behind him from the top of the stairs; his voice dropping down on him like a leaden weight, freezing the archer between steps. “Rather bad form, don't you think?”

“Please. Give my apologies to Varric. I suddenly feel the need for some air.” Sebastian replied as casually as he could manage with his heartbeat suddenly pounding in his ears. _Not good enough!_ \- he could hear the slight tremor of his voice. He could only hope his strong accent, which had notably thickened under the influence of the drink, would hide the telltale quiver from Hawke.

“Oh come now, Seb.” Hawke’s voice was now much closer, – _when_ _did_ _he come down the steps?_ Sebastian hadn't heard him move at all! - a deep seductive purr; his breath ghosting over the prince’s ear making him shudder. Sweet Andraste! His ears were never going to be the same again. Hawke had turned them into some oversensitive erogenous zone with his Maker Forsaken games. “You know, I went to _quite_ a bit of trouble to arrange this little trip down memory lane for you.” A gentle touch of fingers brushing over the delicate skin behind his tingling ears, moving Sebastian's hair clear of the space, sending an eclectic thrill down his spine which went instantly rigid even as Sebastian's traitorous cock stirred under his trews.

After _years_ of neglect, the void blasted thing was entirely _too_ eager to respond to this intriguing new creature that kept offering to play with it; despite -nay _because-_ of Sebastian's loud mental denials that any such thing was going to happen.

A loud ragged sound was rattling around in the confined space of the stair well, threatening to drown out Hawke’s quiet words, and it was with a shocked jolt that Sebastian realized it was the sound of his own breathing as he began to pant at even this slight contact. Then Hawke's mouth was right there, hovering over the responsive skin, his hot breath making the fine hairs there prickle at the almost contact. “Now, don't you think you should thank me _properly,_ _Sebastian_?” Hawke purred, his tongue darting out to taste the archer's salty flesh.

The effect was instant, and electric.

Sebastian jerked and jumped away from Hawke, just as he had the first time Hawke's tongue had touched his flesh three nights ago. But now, drunk and perched precariously halfway between two steps, the result of such an action was the loss of his footing; his balance failing him utterly. With a thrill of horror the prince felt his world shift and knew he was about to take an incredibly nasty tumble down the stairs into the common room of the tavern below.

Hawke saved him... and condemned him.

The mage caught hold of the archer's hand and yanked the man back onto the step his feet had all but lost their purchase on. With a strength that came as a complete shock to the rogue, the mage threw him up against the wall of the stairwell; the impact enough to knock the air from the prince’s lungs. He was granted no time to recognize the particulars of just how _exactly_ it had happened however, before Hawke’s mouth was descending down upon his own.

_Wait. I'm taller._

His brain got hung up on the, frankly irrelevant, fact that Hawke was shorter than him. Not by much, true, but he shouldn't have had the advantage of height that he did. But his preoccupation with that unfathomable height, combined with the fact that Sebastian was still gasping -his lungs yet to recover his breath from his sudden impact with the wall- meant the prince was utterly defenseless against Hawke's sudden, though not entirely unanticipated, assault.

And assault it was. There was no tenderness or subtlety to this kiss. Hawke attacked Sebastian's mouth with his lips, tongue, and teeth, with all the same aggression he used to attack his many vanquished foes.

The man's tongue took instant advantage of Sebastian's, gasping, parted lips and invaded the prince's mouth; plundering it with deep thrusts and swirling licks. The lingering taste of the zinfandel on Hawke's lips and breath tricking Sebastian into responding, his own tongue rising to challenge and wrestle with this sudden intruder. Lured on by the inciting taste of the wine and something dark and forbidden – the taste of Fell Hawke himself – the prince's tongue tried to counter this incursion; slipping into the mage's mouth of its own accord, chasing that illusive forbidden flavor.

Their lips meshed and pressed together with bruising force, and yet Sebastian was surprised to note -somewhere in the back recesses of his mind- that Hawke's lips were softer than he would have ever expected another man's to be. The mage's hand came up and tangled in the back of Sebastian’s auburn hair and yanking once, hard and rough, forcing the prince's head back, giving the mage even greater access to his already ravished mouth. That devilish tongue withdrew as suddenly as it had arrived, sending a shock of irritation through Sebastian at the absence, before Fell switched his attention to the prince’s full lower lip, suckling and licking at it until he drew a soft moan from deep in Sebastian’s chest.

Seb's vocalization was rewarded by Fell swiftly, and viciously, biting down on the newly sensitized flesh; making the archer's blue eyes pop open in shock.

“Come on, Seb.” Fell growled down at him, his claret eyes burning into Sebastian’s cobalt ones. “You just gonna sit there and let me take you like you're my passive little bitch?” Anger, and male pride ballooned in Sebastian’s chest. _How dare he!_ Sebastian Vael was no one's _bitch_ , passive or otherwise. The archer's hands flew up to the mages chest and with a vicious shove, Sebastian sent the mage crashing into the opposite wall; knocking him down from the step he'd used to gain his false height advantage over the prince.

With a snarl Sebastian followed Hawke, slamming him into the wall again as their bodies came together with bone jarring force. With their height restored to their proper order, it was easy for Sebastian to press his advantage over the mage; forcing his weight down upon the shorter man until the hard edge of his armor was crushing into the feeble protection of Fell's leathers with force enough to bruise. The sweet song of pain and domination making Fell throw his head back; a groan of appreciation passing through the mage's gritted teeth.

With a savage strength he'd not known he possessed, Seb took it a step further. Pressing his hips into the Champion's; forcing Fell's legs apart with one of his own and grinding his thigh against the hardness he encountered there. Fell groaned, but his eyes, when they opened and met Sebastian’s own, were smug; goading Sebastian to greater demonstration of his prowess. The prince's hands came up and grabbed two fistfuls of the mage's untidy black hair; yanking hard and making Hawke hiss, as he ruthlessly tilted his head, forcing the mage's mouth into the position he wanted.

Then Sebastian gave Fell a taste of his own medicine.

His tongue plunged in to Fell's mouth; forcing lips and teeth apart with practiced ease. Dominant and hot, that talented tongue swiped over teeth and gums, demeaning the other man's submission. Teeth grazed over lips and tongue both, as Fell briefly fought to regain the upper hand, before submitting with a satisfied moan. When next Sebastian’s tongue stormed Fell's mouth, instead of dueling with it Fell retreated before it, accepting it eagerly into his mouth, then suckling the soft appendage with a lewd and avid hunger. Fell's legs fell open around the hard muscle of the prince's thigh and he bucked his hips slowly, riding Seb's leg; savoring the way his aching prick was pressed between their bodies.

Sebastian felt the other man melt under him and broke the kiss, a triumphant smile playing over his swollen and kiss bruised lips. He leaned down to Hawke's ear his teeth grazing over the shell of flesh, taking revenge for Fell's earlier torments; and relished the wholly wanton moan that escaped from the Champion.

“Who's _my_ pliant little bitch, now.” He rumbled, His voice low and rich, his accent thickening with lust as he listened to the Champion’s heated panting. The mage continued to grind into the prince's hip desperately, soft groans escaping him. As Seb brought his mouth to Hawke's neck, letting his teeth graze over the visible thrumming of the man's pulse. _Not just a bitch,_ the Prince thought with contempt, a _bitch in heat._

A breathless elated-sounding chuckle vibrated the air next to his own ear, “Promise?”

_What?_ Sebastian froze. The realization of just exactly what he was doing slamming into him like and arrow thru the chest; as Hawke's hand came forward and gripped the hard length of Sebastian’s cock through his trews.

“Promise to bury this _bone_ deep inside me, Seb – and I'll let you collar me and paint me with Kaddis if you want.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Closing A/N: Please don't kill me! Next time – Sex! MUCH SlashSex! I Promise! It's the entire chapter. All that's left is the getting of Sebastian from the Hanged Man to Hawke's estate – that's it I swear! And for your patience I shall reward you with a 19k word-count /graphic/ bedroom scene (and I'm rounding that down!)
> 
> Once again a huge thank you to [Enchant](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Enchant/pseuds/Enchant) for being a setellarly awesome person and giving up her time to help make this perfect! You're the BEST, sweetness.
> 
> For those of you who are following this... Both 3 and 4 will be posted on the same day as they were originally intended to be one chapter... but when the final word count broke the 23k mark I figured I needed to divvy it up for the sake of readability. So be aware when Following E-mail notification links... you may be skipping ahead.
> 
> So Next Time: Parts Three & Four - 'Hawke Delivers' & 'A Right Hot Mess'
> 
> And remember....
> 
> Comment and review! - I want you all to enjoy this as much as I do and for that I need to know what you like and dislike!
> 
> (seriously I'm shamelessly begging here... Just like Fell's going to. *wink* )


	3. Part Three: Hawke Delivers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Opening A/N: And~ we're back! Sorry for the delay – This was almost as slow in the editing at it was in the writing! and It gave me a run for my money when I first wrote it... I blame willful characters. when I was writing this both Fell AND Sebastian kept trying to talk to me about anything but what was going on in that bedroom. It was maddening. But they -Finally!- got down to business. The result? Nearly 30 or so pages worth of pure unadulterated smut to be had for your patience! ( And that is JUST the smut people –I'm not counting the lead up or closing in that)
> 
> All hail and praises to [Enchant](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Enchant/pseuds/Enchant) For Beta-ing this /again/ for Ao3 aswell as simply being so awesomely friendly, helpful and supportive with me. Not to mention being a spectacular reviewer, an excellent sounding board. 
> 
> Also extra special Cookies! and thank-yous to [Hatsepsut](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Hatsepsut) ('The Queen of Smut' herself for encouraging me to write in the first place and inducting me into her court, dubbing me her new 'Countess of Kink'! - hopefully I can live up to such a lofty title)
> 
> If you haven't read any of their stuff yet I highly recommend you go and check them out after you're done with this! (And please, Please PLEASE – Comment and review! Don't be shy. Tell us what you think! It's how we know what you liked and what you didn't so we can give you even more tailor-made tasty goodness in the future, yes? Even simple “I liked this, not that” comments help and motivate every writer on Ao3.)
> 
> (*side note* – it hasn't come up in the story before but I consider Sebastian to be three, maybe four, years Fell's senior in this – just another FYI)
> 
> *Disclaimer*: These are Bioware's toys... I just enjoy getting them /filthy/ before I give them back
> 
> *Warnings*: (This chapter is not for the faint of heart!) This is the SLASH-SEX chapter so things are about to get REAL – KINK!!! – On this front slash is just the tip of the iceberg! We shall also be visited here by the fairies of Dub-con (really she just pokes her head in the room – but if you're sensitive to this please be warned, I dislike accidentally upsetting people), Anal (really this just comes paired with the slash-fiary, people) Bondage, Deep-throating, Orgasm Denial, Forced Orgasm, Spanking, Breath Play, Mild Shame-play, *Name Calling*(see end note), Submission/Dominance Play, and a light sprinkling of S&M fairy-dust (with the focus on the 'M' part of that pair)– OH! and 'that electricity thing' Fell blatantly stole form Anders
> 
> So...yeah... still cuming?
> 
> *wicked smile*
> 
> Good. Then let us continue

Sebastian stood at the door to the Hawke estate, and raised his hand to knock.

_What are you doing? This is madness! You can't seriously be considering going through with this foolishness._..

His hand froze; his knuckles a mere inch form the door's gleaming wood. What _was_ he doing here? When he'd fled the Hanged Man - _and Hawke_ \- he'd had no intention of coming here. He was headed back to the Chantry. That had been his _intent_ at least...

So how did he end up standing with his hand raised to knock on Hawke's door?

_Knock on my door tonight, and we'll see if we don't_ _ **both**_ _live up to our reputations._ Hawke's parting words swam within his mind once more. That had been after Hawke had promised to act the willing bitch to him, waking Sebastian up to the reality of their situation. Horrified by what he'd done and said, he'd shoved himself clear of the other man, then fled the tavern to the sound of the Champion's mocking laughter.

He'd staggered out into the streets of Lowtown, his mind still reeling. It was a miracle he'd made it out of the district unmolested, considering how distracted he was. Surely, stumbling around the back alleys of Lowtown at night, lost in a daze, was the nearest thing to walking around wearing a sign about his neck that read 'mug me'.

He didn't even recall crossing over from Lowtown to Hightown. How had he missed that? And how long had he been aimlessly wandering the quarter, his thoughts still trapped, racing in tight circles because of what had happened in that stairwell?

Andraste's grace! what he'd said – Merciful Maker! what he'd _done!_ He could still _perceive_ Hawke's lips on his own. Still _taste_ that dark forbidden flavor that lingered on the other man's tongue. Could still _feel_ the way the Champion's body had suddenly softened under his own, submitting eagerly in the face of Sebastian’s aggression...

The image of that exhausted trembling Hawke on the beach swam before his eyes.

_I want more._

The thought hit him like one of Aveline's shield bashes; literally _staggering_ him off of the front step, till he turned and was forced to clutch at the pillars over the entry for support. He _wanted_ more. He actually - _truly_!- wanted to see where things would have gone next had he but let them continue.

By Andraste! He wasn't just _considering_ breaking his vows- he’d been _intending_ to do so!

Tonight.

For Hawke.

For a _man_!

Maker! He needed to leave before he did something he'd regret.

 

 

**.:xo-HMH-ox:.**

 

 

Hawke stood in the shadowed alley across from his door, and watched Sebastian rock back and forth on his front steps.

_Come on man just knock already!_ He thought. _You know you want to explore this further. Damn it all! Knock!_ But Sebastian continued to just stand there and sway. Clearly the man was still torn. Damn. Hawke was really hoping he'd be further gone than this, after all they'd put him through; but the way things were headed it looked like Isabela's knot skills were going to be put to use after all... _Oh well that'll be fun too, I guess._

_Wait!_ Hawke almost broke cover as he watched the prince's hand rise with the clear intention of knocking. Of course, there was no one there to actually _answer_ the door, but Hawke was hoping that Seb would make the decision to knock anyway; to _ask_ for entry into the house. If Sebastian just made the _choice_ to take that next step, then everything would be so much simpler.

_False alarm_ , he thought with a sigh, as the prince's hand, once again, fell back to his side without getting any nearer the door. _So close. Damn, I really had hoped..._

He _had_ hoped, but Hawke was also a realist.

He'd suspected upon seeing the panic in Seb's eyes, after they'd broken from their kiss, that he was still going to have some work to do before the monk finally capitulated to the inevitable. Hence why he was out here, hiding in a dark alley, instead of standing half-naked behind that door; he wasn't going to risk letting the man slip through his fingers this late in the game. No, if Seb turned-tail to run, Hawke was ready to stop him; a sleep hex already prepared in his mind. Sebastian wouldn't make more than a few steps should his resolve to keep to his vows hold firm.

However, should things proceed as Fell _hoped..._ Well, he'd also taken steps to make sure nothing was in Seb's way.

Hawke hadn't wanted to risk the sight of Bodahn, Sandal or Orana sending the prince scampering back to the Chantry, should he actually work up the nerve to knock at his door. So, after he'd raced back to the party and told Isabela the game was on – sending her off to make sure the dazed and off balance prince wasn't accosted in the streets on his way to Hightown- _he'd_ taken the back alleys and rushed ahead to the estate to let his servants off duty and see them retired to the servant's quarters for the night. It was looking like it had been a wasted effort, however; it _really_ didn't appear as though Seb was going to be entering the mansion under his own steam. _Less in the way of witnesses, I suppose._

Suddenly, quite out of nowhere, the prince staggered, like he'd taken a physical blow; almost tripping as he turned from Hawke's door, all but collapsing down the two front steps. For a moment Seb just clung to one of the pillars that bracketed the steps. When he raised his head, however, Hawke had known he was about to bolt. Those spectacular crystalline blue eyes were hugely round with a familiar, _knowing_ , kind of horror. In it, Hawke, had recognized the look of a man who'd just had an epiphany his conscious mind was not yet ready for. At the sight of it Fell loosed his sleeping hex upon the prince just as Sebastian straightened to take his first swaying steps toward the Chantry.

He rushed out of his hiding place and managed to catch the archer before he collapsed completely and ended up cracking his head open. "I got you, Seb." He murmured soothingly, easing the tall man down to the cobbles with care; the monk fully succumbing to Fell's magic. Isabela appeared from the shadows not a foot to his left.

"Glad you were there." She remarked. "I was worried I was gonna have to knock him over the head; he was definitely about to scarper." She said, twirling one of her daggers lazily.

"Definitely." Fell replied, running his fingers along Sebastian's cheek with a small shiver of pleasure. Those well bread, handsome, features were even more appealing in the man's sleep. _A criminal waste! He is just too damn pretty to fritter away in the Chantry!_

"Come on, Pet. Help me get him inside." Between the two of them, they managed to get Sebastian up and draped over Fell's shoulders with a minimum of fuss, so that Hawke might half drag the taller man into his estate. Fell breathed a sigh of relief once they were off of the darkened streets and safely inside the dim ante-chamber of his home. Now at least he wouldn't have to come up with any tales to assuage one of Aveline's overly inquisitive guards as to just _exactly_ why he was dragging an unconscious lay brother into his home. Not that such a lie wouldn't be _painfully_ easy for him to sell, but Aveline was sure to hear of the tale in her reports come morning... That could make things... awkward.

No sooner had the door closed behind them than Vice, his mabari, came hurtling toward the door, jewel studded collar glinting in the dim light; her approach silent. Fell had long since trained her out of the habit of barking like a lunatic whenever company or intruders came to call. With company anything more than a quiet chuff in greeting was unnecessary, and as for intruders... Fell was firmly of the opinion that if they were breaking into his house they deserved whatever they got; and fair warning that they were about to be mauled by his war dog, wasn't high on his priority list.

Despite the silence of her advance, Vice's joyful exuberance was, none the less, obvious. The mabari danced around their legs, wagging her rump with joy at the sight of Sebastian. She was always overjoyed when her master brought back men for the evening. She was an absolute hussy, and a shameless flirt with Fell's male compatriots. She'd have been _happier_ if Isabela hadn't been present but in the last few months the pirate and mabari seemed to have come to a truce of sorts. At least the jealous bitch no longer growled at the rogue whenever she approached Hawke's chambers.

The first few nights Isabela had spent over, Fell had actually had to lock Vice in the back courtyard, she'd made such a fuss about it. It was ridiculous – you didn't see Fell giving the stink eye to any of the studs the bitch started flashing her hind quarters at and he had _far_ more cause to. Frankly, none of the mabari in Kirkwall were _worthy_ of breeding his fine lady. Mongrels, the lot of them.

"Out of it, Vice!" Hawke snapped after nearly tripping over her when she tried twining between his legs – a stark impossibility given her size – like an overgrown cat. She was r _eally_ happy to see Sebastian being taken toward Hawke's bed chambers. "You'll hardly thank me for dropping him down the stairs and breaking his royal neck. Go! Guard!" Vice was too well trained to disobey a direct command; with a whine for being sent from his presence and a silent curled lip of warning for Isabela, the giant dog turned to resume her patrolling of the estate.

It took a fair bit of grunting and cursing for Hawke and Isabela to haul Sebastian's dead weight up the stairs but in the end they managed it.

"Grab that chair for me, Bela. Maker! I'm never complaining about how heavy you are again!" With a groan Hawke happily relinquished his burden onto his desk chair at the foot of his bed. "Right. Let's get this armor off of him. Then you can see to trussing him up like a Satinalia goose, whilst I go freshen up."

Once Seb's armor was off him– _Not_ a simple process between the limp Sebastian -who couldn't help them- and the ridiculously complicated nature of the belts and straps that held that walking target in place – Isabela set about removing Sebastian's under tunic and securing the prince to the chair.

Fell, left her to it – taking the pile of gleaming enameled dragon bone and dumping it all on Sandal's crafting table. He left a note for Bodahn to see to it, that it was cleaned and polished in the morning, and to have Sandal check if there was any potential for further enchantments to be added to it. If the prince insisted on walking around shining like a bloody beacon, the _least_ he could do, would be to glow brightly enough to blind their enemies for the rest of them. He was back at the foot of the stair when a wicked idea came over him and he turned back and added one more instruction to his manservant and enclosed a second note.

Chuckling over that bit of mischief, Hawke turned and trotted back up the stairs, already half-hard, and eager to see the night progress.

When he made it back to the room the sight of a half-naked Sebastian bound to the chair saw Hawke well on his way to fully - _achingly_ \- hard. His mouth began to water and he had to remind himself that the _point_ of this evening was to get Seb to slip those bonds and take charge. Oh! but the potential fun that could be had should those knots have been meant to hold him for real...

Isabela's arms slid up his back and over his shoulder as she brought her chin to rest on Hawke's shoulder. Her voice was breathy with her own arousal when she spoke. "He does look delicious that way, doesn't he?" She purred into his ear, even as she began helping him with the ties of his own leather armor. "Almost seems like a waste... After all, what are the chances we'll have him in this position twice?" Fell agreed, the prince bound and gagged - _helpless_ \- was a simply _gorgeous_ picture, one that definitely inspired a desire to explore it further. But that was for another time. Tonight, he wanted Seb proud and angry and _dominant_.

Tonight, Fell would allow himself the surrender of being _owned_.

 

 

**.:xo-HMH-ox:.**

 

 

“Hawke! Stop this!” Sebastian demanded, his voice strained and ragged. Desperately, he fought against the bonds that bound his ankles to the chair legs and his wrists behind the chair back. Struggling to find the elusive trick that would supposedly make the ropes loosen and free him.

“Stop what, Seb? _This_?” Again that thrilling buzz of electrical current raced through Sebastian’s cock from the tips of Fell's tormenting fingers, making the prince's shaft jump and his balls tighten and ache.

“Enough, Fell!” Seb snarled through his teeth, trying desperately to regain some control of this crazy situation. Near spitting with frustrated fury. “You've had your fun. Now release me!”

Fell just chuckled that deep purring chuckle of his, leaning in close to the archer's ear. “Make me.”

When Sebastian had awoken -bound, gagged, and stripped down to his trews- his first thought was that he'd finally been rewarded for his distracted carelessness and had been mugged. But that wasn't right. If he'd been mugged and sold to slavers he'd have been far more likely to have woken up hog tied on the ground of a cold dark cellar.

When he'd noticed the relative comfort and warmth of the room he was in, and the fact that he'd not been beaten or miss handled at all he'd jumped to the _next_ logical conclusion: that someone had taken him hostage, and was going to attempt ransoming him back to the highest bidder – be that his advisers or his cousin’s current puppet master back in Starkhaven.

He'd lifted his eyes up from the sight of his bare feet bound to the legs of a chair, sitting on a thick plied -very _expensive-_ rug, to see if there was anything he could possibly use to free himself with.

And had come face to face with Fell Hawke. The Apostate had been reclining half naked on the end of his bed; Isabela lounging on the pillows behind him in nothing but her smalls.

The sight had been... stirring.

Sebastian had pretended not to notice what a pretty picture they made, and had simply glared daggers at the pair of them. His thoughts seething with indignant fury. _The nerve of them!_ To sink so low as to _actually_ kidnap him and tie him up in an attempt to get him to join them in their wickedness!

“Now, now, Seb. No need for the death glare.” Hawke had chided, a small smile playing over his lips, at Seb's outraged gaze. “We're doing you a favor. See? You're all tied up – So it's entirely outside of your control what happens next.” Fell had stood then, providing Sebastian with his first unobstructed view of Fell Hawke shirtless, and Sebastian had entirely forgotten that he was _incensed_ by the Champion's actions. Forgot that he was a _sworn_ lay brother. Forgot that he wasn't even _remotely_ interested in men.

Fell looked like one of the heathen Rivaini god-lings fallen to earth – somewhat battle scarred, perhaps, but with nary an ounce of superfluous fat nor flesh to be seen. Surprisingly, broad well-muscled shoulders, a sculpted chest, long lean core, narrow, well-defined hips- all of it leading Seb's eye ever lower until...

_Oh!_

Sebastian had swallowed convulsively at the sight of the tented fabric of Hawke's silken sleeping trews, which did nothing to hide just _exactly_ how well-endowed The Champion of Kirkwall was; nor how _aroused_ the man was. Even as the presence of the other man's cock sent a nervous shiver through him, Hawke's naked arousal also made him recall -in vivid detail- the events of the day – the dreams, the sight of Hawke spent and trembling on the beach... the horrifyingly clear recall of that carnal volatile kiss – and the lay brother's cock had come to a -more than mildly- intrigued half-mast _entirely_ against Sebastian’s will.

What Hawke did next took care of getting the prince the _rest_ of the way to hard.

Hawke had prowled over to him and -casual as you please- straddled Sebastian's bound legs, sitting on the prince's lap; his own rock hard prick pressing its length into the flesh of Sebastian's taught abdomen while the round of his ass fell perfectly into place to cradle the prince's half-hard length between the warm, firm flesh.

The heat alone would have done him in.

Sebastian had groaned through the gag at the overly intimate contact

_Sweet Andraste! How can he be so warm?_ He'd wondered as the heat of the mage's entire body registered against Sebastian's skin. Fell burned- like a man suffering from a fever, an envelope of hot air encircling him so that Sebastian could feel it even where _inches_ of open air separated their flesh. Sebastian’s skin had broken out in gooseflesh at the contrast, despite the fact that the room itself was actually quite warm.

_If his skin feels this warm to the touch, then..._

Sebastian’s cock had leapt and instantly turned hard as ironbark at the thought of just how incredibly _hot_ he would be inside.

Finally, with a -strictly internal- sigh, Sebastian capitulated. Gave in and gave up. The prince opened the flood gate of his past and let his mind run with it; giving it free-rein to indulge the fantasy and vivid imaginings of how amazing it would feel to bury himself in someone warm and wet and _tight_ once more. After all, this was going to happen, one way or another, that much was _glaringly_ obvious.

“Okay, Seb. Let me set the scene for you.” Fell had smiled down at him, rocking his hips and making Sebastian groan again at the decadent warm friction on his prick as that hot cleft shifted along his length, even through the barrier of his smalls and two sets of silk trews. “My Bela is tired of me turning her into a puddle, and now she wants to see _me_ reduced to the same state. And what Isabela _wants_ , I _provide_ ; and -lucky you- you're the man I've chosen to help me with that. So tonight, you and I are going to have some _spectacular_ sex; and you are going to fuck me until I break. Then, tomorrow, we're all going to go back to just being good friends, and carry on with our lives. Think you can manage that, Seb?” Hawke had breathed, “Think you can bugger me into the bed until I beg you for mercy and still manage not to get your heart involved, Choir Boy?” Fell had asked his eye boring into Sebastian's own with an astonishingly serious level of inquire, as though Sebastian's answer actually mattered in this. Sebastian had just looked up into those glinting garnet eyes of his, nodding his head once in a single jerking nod as he'd rocked his hips forward, hunting out that delectable friction for himself to further prove his willingness.

“Good man.” Fell had chuckled, then he'd removed himself from Sebastian's lap, and made his way around behind the chair. Seb had relaxed some at that point, assuming that Hawke intended to untie him. Being bound and helpless was _not_ the side of things he enjoyed; add to that the volatile and unpredictable creature in the form of Fell Hawke in the room, and it had made the prince _distinctly_ nervous to be so restrained. He had wanted the ropes gone. He had wanted to take back some of the control he'd wrested from the other man earlier in the evening.

Clearly Hawke had, had... _other_ plans.

Warm hands had come to rest upon his shoulder and had then slid down over his chest as hot breath had once again bathed his ear. When he had felt Hawke's tongue once again introducing itself to the inner workings of his ear Sebastian had started to tug insistently at the bonds; doing his best to signal his impatience with the other man's antics through the gag. When those too-warm hands had found his nipples and begun to toy with them, causing the flesh to tighten and pebble under their touch; _that_ was when Sebastian had realized that despite his implied compliance, Hawke had _no_ intention of untying him just yet.

That was when Sebastian had started to fight with the ropes in earnest.

“Sorry, Seb. But I don't think I'm _quite_ ready to let you out of those just yet.” Hawke had breathed into his ear, “You might yet have _another_ change of heart and run out on our fun.” Then he'd taken both of Seb's nipples between his fingers and had given them a sharp nasty twist, making the prince cry out. _Impudent Fereldan dog!_ Sebastian had started snarling invective through the gag at the other man; doing his best to make sure Fell knew _exactly_ what he was calling him despite the hindrance of the fabric. Unfortunately, Sebastian's anger had just seemed to goad the younger man on, and Hawke had merely chuckled once more as he did it again. That time, however, the sensation had been different; the shock somewhat mitigated. _That_ time, it had sent a small trembling shudder of pleasure through Sebastian along with then pain. When Sebastian had cried out that second time... it had been as much a moan as a shout.

“Oh! Now _that_ sounded pretty. Make him do it again.” Sebastian’s eyes had flown open in shock as he belatedly remembered that he and Hawke were not alone in the room. Isabela had still been reclined on the bed, watching her lover torment him with hunger in her golden eyes; one hand toying at her breast, dragging her fingers over her own dusky nipples, while the other was partially obscured from the prince’s sight, buried as it was, under her small-clothes. Sebastian's eyes had met the Pirate's and she had licked her lips, changing the motion of that half-hidden hand, purely for _his_ benefit no doubt; making the movement bigger, more obvious.

“I'll do you one better, Pet.” Hawke had said, when he'd felt Sebastian's breathing escalate at the sight of a mostly naked woman pleasuring herself right before his eyes. He had reached up, and in an efficient practiced move, loosened the gag so it fell over the prince's chin to hang around his neck. Swiftly, Fell had brought his fingers back to Sebastian’s poor, abused nipples -before the prince had a chance to take advantage of his new found freedom of speech- and repeated the move. The cry Sebastian had loosed had been the sweetest ambrosia; it made Fell's mouth water and his dick weep, and both men had seen the sudden darkening of the fabric covering Isabela's womanhood, when Seb's voice had cracked.

“Release me, Hawke!” Seb had half-panted, half-growled, “I _swear_ to you, I've no intention of leaving till you've been repaid for this... _kindness._ ” The way Seb had hissed that last word had made it _quite_ clear to everyone present that he considered it to be nothing of the sort.

“Tell you what, Seb,” Hawke had murmured in his ear. As he spoke, his hands had begun to move lower over Sebastian's tense midsection. Sending shuddering thrills through the prince's skin with every barely-there touch, until the apostate’s fingers had found the laces of his trews and deftly began to loosen the knotting which held them shut. “These ropes... well you see, Isabela did them up _special_ for us.” Sebastian's eyes, which had followed the path of Fell's fingers, had briefly flicked up to the smirking pirate before they had been drawn back to those sinful hands that had continuously brushed over his aching rod as they set about laying him bare. “She's made it so that all _you_ have to do is figure out the trick of the knot and they'll come completely undone at a touch.” He'd laid open Sebastian's trews entirely by this point and had commenced toying with the ties to Sebastian's smalls, a smug smile of satisfaction as the prince's tanned chest had begun to rise and fall with a marked increase in tempo; the monk’s ragged respiration near the point of hyperventilation.

“Hawke-” By this point, Sebastian, had been kicking his hips up into the light touches Fell kept dragging along the spine of his cock, trying to force the man to touch him with more _substance_. That feather light contact had been maddening; causing every fiber of his being to cry out for more. More heat. More pressure. More friction. Just _more_.

The prince's breathing had hitched as the tie holding his smalls in place had finally come loose while Hawke had continued on to say. “So, here's the deal, Seb. You get out of those ropes and I'm your willing bitch -to do with as you please- just like I promised you. But until you do...” Hawke had then grabbed Sebastian's hair and had yanked his head back, the better to savage the monk's mouth with a brutal, despotic kiss that left the both of them gasping. “Until then, Seb, you're _my_ toy to play with, however _I_ please.”

And that was exactly what Fell had proceeded to do – _toy_ with him.

For the next half hour it had been nothing but torment after slow torment; light touches and teasing whispers of sensation designed to ever increase the state of Sebastian’s already frustrated arousal. When Hawke had finally laid his manhood bare Seb hadn't even registered Isabela's delighted coo of appreciation or Fell's soft intake of eager exited breath; all _he'd_ cared about by that point had been the need to feel one of those burning hands wrapped around his throbbing prick.

Naturally, Fell _hadn't_ obliged. There had been one _brief_ surge of hope that had existed when -for all of two seconds- one inconceivably hot hand had fisted around the end of his length...

One pump. Just enough to pull his foreskin clear of the darkly swollen head. That had been all the mage had given him before releasing him, once more and going back to his tortuous teasing.

For what had felt like an eternity, Hawke had done no more than lightly graze his finger over the sensitive skin just behind the slit; playing with the knot of nerves that resided around the line of his folded back foreskin. That hadn't been _too_ bad, at first – it _had_ sent intense tingling shivers through his entire length and straight to the root of his spine, but Sebastian had managed to keep _relatively_ calm; managing to - _almost_ \- keep his focus on trying to free himself from the ropes. Secure in his belief that the notoriously impatient Champion could hardly continue to exercise such restraint for long.

Isabela could have told him otherwise.

It hadn't taken long before Sebastian understood Fell's game. The continuous stimulus of those two warm fingers lightly brushing over that satiny, smooth, skin had slowly but relentlessly set those nerves on fire and it hadn't been long until Sebastian had begun to sweat as Hawke had continued to go about making those nerves positively _sing_ with need; making the prince's cock _weep_ pre-cum like never before as it tried franticly to encourage further -s _tronger!_ \- contact. Nevertheless – despite his growing distress, Sebastian, had remained grimly determined; desperately working on the ropes, twisting and rolling his wrists till they had felt raw as he tried to get a handle on just what he need to do to make them give. Once, he thought he might have felt a shift in the cords, but as he tried to discern just what it was he'd done in order that he might replicate it, Hawke had upped the stakes.

For that was when the mage had called the magic to his hand.

The first time those thrumming tingling fingers had brushed over those same over wrought nerves Sebastian’s will had broken and he'd cried out, his entire body arching forward like a drawn bow.

“FUCK!” His voice had trembled as he collapsed back into the chair. “Maker! Enough!” Again that soft insistent vibrating current had hit him as Hawke's finger unerringly found that exact same spot again.

“No need for formality here, Seb. You can call me Hawke,” The Champion had purred cheekily in to Seb's ear. “Or _Master_ if it makes you more comfortable.” Then he had brought his fingers back and did it _again_.

That was when Sebastian had lost his head completely, abandoning all reason and fineness and had simply resorted to struggling against the bindings with brute strength; desperate to free himself so that he might shove that swaggering brat to his knees and bury himself balls deep in that arrogant smart mouth of his till the bastard _choked_ on him. He'd snarled up at the other man even as he'd gritted his teeth against another magic-induced wave of sensation.

_When I get free I'm going to_ slap _that insolent smirk right off of his face! 'Master_ '! _By Andraste's buttered ASS! I'll show you who the 'Master' is her you insolent cur!_

“Hawke! Stop this!”

“Stop what, Seb? _This_?”

“Enough, Fell! You've had your fun. Now, release me!”

“Make me.” Then to Sebastian's - _momentary_ \- relief Hawke had finally switched his attentions to a new location. Unfortunately, his new target was even _more_ sensitive despite not having been tormented for the past half hour. Fell spread those two fiendish fingers and slid them down, curling them under the sides of the now heavily swollen and glistening head of Sebastian's cock, till they were massaging the glands which resided there.

Hawke miscalculated.

“HAWKE!” Sebastian cried out in warning, but it was too late.

When that sweet, terrible, tingle of electrical current hit Sebastian on those engorged glands... the result was a foregone conclusion.

Sebastian came; his vision swimming and his lungs burning in that brief moment of complete and unbearable tension before sudden blessed release- his cock shooting forth a staggering amount of hot seed, painting thick lines over Hawke's hand and Sebastian's own abdomen as all the air slowly leaked from his lungs in a long drawn out moan which started deep in his throat and rattled through his whole chest by the time his load was completely spent.

Sebastian collapsed back against the chair, his head thrown back and his eyes closed as he slowly worked to get his breathing back under control. He took the time to try to come to terms with the maelstrom of emotions he was experiencing.

The part of him that was still clinging to the persona he'd built up during his years of dedicated service to the Maker was glad that things had ended here; glad that he would not be forced to participate any further and thus officially become forsworn. But the other part... the _old_ prince, the wild uncontrollable youth he had been before his parents had unceremoniously thrown him to the Chantry's mercy; the part which Fell and Isabela had so carefully set about waking from his long slumber... _That_ part of him felt distinctly and horribly _cheated_. _He_ had been promised the chance to make Hawke submit and crawl and beg – the chance to see The Champion of Kirkwall come undone.

_I've been robbed._

He may once have been capable of coming twice, possibly even three times, in the course of an evening but he was, alas, no longer a randy teenager and he was quite certain, given the sizable amount of cum now cooling across his stomach, that his body had held nothing back for and further exploits.

He should have known that Hawke would be prepared for that.

When Sebastian opened his eyes again it was to the sight of Hawke licking a large portion of his load from between those long devious fingers. Seb's eyes widened and he was beyond shocked when his cock actually put forth a valiant effort and twitched -even _as_ it was softening- in appreciation of the sight. Hawke continued to patiently hunt down every drop of cum that had soiled his hand with a remarkably long tongue that Sebastian was only now truly beginning to comprehend. He was clearly putting on a show, closing his eye with relish as he licked up each line and drop, humming his appreciation as he appeared to savor the taste. _Sweet Maker!_ Sebastian felt his heart rate begin to pick up once more and again his prick stirred with an avid determined interest.

“Enough.” He panted. “You've made your point; but there's no more to be had from me.”

“Oh we're not done yet, _old man_.” Hawke crooned, his lips curling up in a wicked smile, “Not by a long shot!” Then he threw his head back and laughed, holding out his -now clean- hand toward Isabela who tossed something from the bedside table into the mage's waiting fingers. Sebastian barely had time to see the small bottle holding a bright daffodil yellow liquid before Hawke corked it and tossed the entire contents back.

_That appeared to be..._

And Hawke closed the distance between them; once again using Sebastian’s hair to yank the man's head back, before pressing his lips to the prince's. Sebastian lips instinctively parted at the contact and before he could think of just what Hawke was up to the taste of a stamina draught, liberally laced with the salty, bitter flavor of his own cum, flooded his mouth and Hawke's hand came up and pinched shut his nostrils, forcing Sebastian to either swallow or drown. The restorative power of the potion was instantaneous, and with a shudder, all the fatigue and trembling of Sebastian's muscles came to a grinding halt. And that meant _all_ his muscles.

Within moments Sebastian's cock was once again standing proud and ready.

For a moment, Seb had just stared down at the sight of it and marveled. He'd never thought that stamina draughts could be used for _that_ particular application before. But it certainly seemed to have done the trick. He wasn't perhaps as _achingly_ hard as before but he was definitely capable... and as Fell slowly sank to his knees between Sebastian's legs it was clear that the younger man had plans for getting Sebastian right back to aching in no time at all.

Hot breath rolled over his skin as the Champion leaned forward and began to lick the cooling ribbons of cum off of the monk's rippling abdominals. That long broad tongue demonstrated a rather breath-taking dexterity as it moved over Sebastian's tan skin. The rougher texture of Fell's stubble-covered throat sending violent whole body shivers through him as it dragged along the sensitive flesh of Sebastian's rapidly swelling cock.

After all of the prince's load had disappeared into that cursed, sinful mouth, Hawke came to rest, kneeling, between Sebastian’s parted knees. The sight of Fell preparing to do what the prince's over-eager mind had been dreaming and obsessing about since that moment back on the path, not only saw Sebastian's cock pulse and visibly swelling with anticipation, but actually seem to short circuit his mind. He simply couldn't seem to think. All he could do was try not to hyperventilate as those sinful lips moved with agonizing slowness toward his straining prick.

Strong, hot hands slid up his thighs, _just_ as Sebastian had imagined they would, till those long, cruel fingers curled around his hips with all the tender care and mercy of a steel trap; digging into the flesh hard enough to leave bruises and making Sebastian hiss. That undertone of pain only served to enhance the sweetness of Fell's intensely hot moist, breath as it spilled over the head of Sebastian's manhood.

Sebastian _moaned_. A long low drawn out sound that would have been utterly mortifying to him if he weren't so intensely focused on how tantalizingly close that mouth was to just taking him in.

But, Fell, had never been one to play fair.

The younger man stopped; his mouth millimeters from the tip of Sebastian's twitching rod. “Is this what you wanted, Seb?” Every word saw that luxurious warm breath whispering over the sensitive flesh, those shameful sensuous lips just brushing over the slit, actually collecting the beads of moisture that were already straining to escape him once more. “Is this what you've been _waiting_ for? _Longing_ for? My mouth? My lips wrapping around you...” Fell let the barest hint of tongue appear, moistening said lips. “My breath...” Fell's jaw fell open, loosing a hot blast of scalding moist air that washed over Sebastian's length. “My tongue...” The Champion purred, before sliding that astonishingly long tongue forward and gently, with a barely-there-touch, swiped it along the fold of Sebastian's foreskin; licking up the latest bead of moisture to crown the tip. “You taste _so_ good, you know.” He crooned, “I could just drink you down for _hours,_ Seb.”

“Then drink!” The prince ordered, growling and thrusting forward as best he could. However, the mage had locked his elbows and shoulders so that any move Seb made traveled from those bruising fingers up his arms, moving the mage with him so that they never separated further yet they never came any closer either.

“All in due time, Seb.” Again that sadistic tongue came forward and ghosted over him, this time curling under the swollen head to rub along the glands Hawke had zapped to make him cum before. Fire shot along the nerves from his groin to the soles of Sebastian's feet, making his toes curl into the thick rug beneath them. “Free yourself, Seb, and I'll suck on this lovely till you can't see straight, but until then...” He repeated that same move, only this time the blazing trail of fire that scorched through Sebastian's nerves ended in the palms of his hands, making him clench and unclench them reflexively, desperate to assuage the burning. “I rather enjoy watching you _squirm._ ”

“Hawke, untie me this instant or Maker help me!” Hawke just chuckled to hear the monk threaten him, sending little puffs of that hot breath to run over the lay brother again before opening his mouth wide and carefully enclosing just the darkly swollen crown with only his lips before wetly dragging them down and off of him.

It was a whole new, exquisite, kind of torture. All that damp soft heat, and yet absolutely _none_ of the friction or pressure every man craved. The mage repeated the move, and the prince bucked and thrashed in the chair ferociously trying to shake the other man's adamantine hold on his hips so that he might force himself deeper into the dark promise of Hawke's damnable mouth.

“Ah ah ah, Seb.” Hawke chided before lightly swirling his tongue around the tip, making Sebastian's eyes roll back, a moan escaping his parted lips again even as it made the prince want to snarl at him. Half of Sebastian’s brain screamed _'Sooo good!'_ as the other half roared _'Not ENOUGH!'_

“Hawke, you malicious _brat_! Do the damn job properly already!” He thundered. Frustration and humiliation and intense maddening pleasure all swirling and warring in a vortex of raw turmoil in his chest

Hawke looked up at him with a mischievous glint in his carnelian eyes, then bent forward to capture him in his lips again, saying as he did so. “ _Beg_ for it.”

 

 

**.:ox-HMH-xo:.**

 

 

Fell was almost certain it was an accident when Seb _finally_ freed himself of the ropes. He saw the flash of pure rage flare in those burning blue eyes before the man had managed to kick his hips up in a way that tilted them in Fell's grasp so that they slid past his restraining grip and Seb was finally able to force Fell's mouth to take in more of the man's impressively long - _thick-_ rod.

However, the move was somewhat uncontrolled, and Seb had ended up having his ass slide forward in the chair so that he came to rest slouched low in the seat – finally alleviating enough of the tension that was holding the bindings in place, so that the ropes fell away.

Fell thought he had been prepared for the moment when Seb would free himself, but then he hadn't expected to have so much of the prince's manhood buried in his mouth the moment it happened. So he was caught rather off-guard when he saw Seb's legs kick out -efficiently shaking off the ropes- before the man surged to his feet, half-choking Fell with his prick before knocking him back on his ass.

A pleased little smirk had crossed the Champion's lips before he looked up and saw the undisguised livid fury in Sebastian’s eyes. The expression was soon lost as Fell regarded the raw fury burning in those turquoise depths, replaced by a nervous lump which hardened in his throat, making him swallow convulsively.

He'd had _just_ enough time to think: _maybe that 'beg for it' line went a little far..._ before Seb was on him.

Sebastian bent in a swift movement and grabbed Fell by the hair, hauling the champion back up to his knees. Fell's heart thundered at the rough handling. He was already too excited. He'd been aching for this for far too long as it was; and it had been ages since someone had _dared_ be this rough with him – not since his time with the Red Iron, in fact. He'd just closed his eyes in satisfaction, a genuinely pleased smile blooming on his lips at the burning sting in his scalp when the crack of flesh hitting flesh rang out.

It took a moment for the corresponding sting to flare up on Fell's cheek. His eyes flew open, looking up at Seb in amazement. Sebastian, quite, demure - _blushing!_ \- Sebastian, had just smacked him across the face with a casual practiced ease. The realization had made the Champion's eyes grow round and his mouth fall open in a shocked 'O' of surprise.

He was stunned.

Hawke wasn't given any time to consider the deeper meaning or implications behind Sebastian’s practiced skill at smacking, however, as -with a fierce yank- Fell, found himself forced to scramble backwards. The prince dragging him toward the end of the bed with enough force that Fell was at serious risk of losing that handful of hair that Seb had twined around those strong bowman's fingers

Sebastian all but threw him up against the foot-board. Pressing Fell into the joint of the flat wood and the tall carved bed-post before, forcing Fell's head back, his free hand coming up to the Champion’s face, forcing his thumb into the hinge of his jaw and _wrenching_ the Champion's mouth open further. At this point, Sebastian leaned down in order to look Fell right in the eyes; tourmaline boring into garnet.

“I am Sebastian Vael. _Prince_ of Starkhaven. I _beg_ of no man.” Then he straightened and _slammed_ his impressive cock into Fell's open mouth – far and beyond what the Champion could easily take; half strangling him with it.

Fell gagged as Sebastian hit the back of his throat, then choked when the prince just _kept_ going. With his head braced against the bed and Sebastian’s fingers in his hair preventing him from turning, the Champion had nowhere to retreat to. It was a choice of yield or suffer. A moment of panic gripped him preventing him from thinking clearly, his startled mind reeling with the suddenness -and unexpectedly _skilled-_ violence of Sebastian's advance. It took him a moment to remember the trick to deep-throating and it was a moment more before he relaxed, forcing his body to allow the intrusion. Sebastian thrust into his mouth with several fast hard stokes, bruising the tender flesh of Fell's throat before he eased off and Fell had a chance to take his first proper breath since the prince had gotten free.

It was merely a small concession to Hawke's need for oxygen on Seb's part; however, for no sooner had he filled his lungs than Seb came back for more. It was slower this time. A long steady thrust that slid into his throat like a key into a lock. Fell's eyes watered and his jaw trembled with the pressure, -Maker but the prince's cock was a _thick_ piece of meat!- as Sebastian buried himself to the hilt in Fell's mouth, but he persevered and managed to keep himself calm this time and was rewarded by the softening of Seb's grip in his hair as a long drawn out hiss escaped between those too white teeth.

Sebastian then started to move with a purpose and rhythm Fell could work with; two deep thrusts that Fell swore went half way down his throat, followed by three shallower stokes while he refilled his lungs with much needed oxygen. After the fourth cycle, Fell, managed to restart his brain a bit so that when Seb came back for his next deep thrust Fell was ready for him and _swallowed_ him down, making the prince gasp and causing his legs to shake.

“Clearly you've done this before.” Seb panted down to him, his hand now stroking through Fell's hair in soft soothing runs; a beautiful gentle counterpoint to the arching mistreatment of his throat and jaw. Fell hummed his acknowledgment as the prince withdrew again, causing the prince to shudder once more. “If I let up a bit. Are you gonna be a good little bitch and suck it properly?” Seb asked as he looked down at The Champion of Kirkwall; a beautiful visage, as he knelt before him, gagging and choking around his cock, his red eyes watering as drool escaped the comer of his mouth.

Fell, blinked his assent up at the prince and had to admit to somewhat more than a mild twinge of relief when Seb took a step back and allowed Fell a moment to collect himself.

Seb stood back and waited for Fell to come to him this time; shuffling forward on his knees to take the prince's cock in hand, slowly bring his lips toward him once more. Fell's cheek twinging where Sebastian had slapped him as he opened his mouth to take that beautiful prick in...

A thought stuck him. Seb seemed very calm and collected now that he had taken control...

_I wonder..._

Had that outburst been nothing more that the prince's frustration escaping his control or had it, perhaps, been indicative of something... _more_?

Glancing slyly up at Sebastian, who was watching him with a stern expression on his handsome face, Fell deliberately grazed his tongue over the head of Seb's cock, returning to his formerly light teasing touch – testing the water.

Sebastian's response to Fell's little experiment was immediate.

“I said 'suck'!” This time the pain registered first, before any of Fell's other senses caught on; Fell hadn't even seen Seb's hand move; he was so fast with it. His cheek exploded; lighting up like a midsummer bonfire. Where before, there had been a mild sting, now, there was a hot burning ache; Sebastian's hand having stuck him in the _exact_ same spot as before in order to maximize the outcome of his reprimand.

“Test me again, Hawke, and it'll be a back hand across the other.” Seb warned. Fell moaned and felt his cock leap within his trews.

Sweet Maker! Sebastian knew how to _play._

_Andraste's tanned behind he's done this before!_

This may have been the prince's first time playing such games with a man but Seb had clearly explored some of the more _interesting_ shades of fetish on offer in the more expensive brothels. With a moan for the beautifully dark tone with which his friend had threatened him, Fell eagerly came forward and engulfed Seb's cock in his mouth; hollowing his cheeks, and immediately bringing his tongue to bear, now intent on pleasing this new and dangerous man wearing the likeness of his shining virtuous friend.

“Shit!” Isabela's voice came from somewhere on the bed behind him as he went to work, “Well, Sebastian, -I'll admit- I'd never have dreamed it of you. You really _did_ have some fun before the Chantry, didn't you?”

“Quiet, Wench.” Seb said the words in an off-hand lazy command, as he let his head roll back on his shoulders, savoring the way Fell's expressive tongue wrapped around him; the rough surface brushing him in exactly the right places, while pressing him up against the man's palate, so that with each bob of Hawke's head the sensitive crown dragged over the ridges on the roof of the Champion's mouth. “And get off of the bed. I'll be needing it in a moment and I'd prefer it if you didn't soil it further.” Isabela huffed a bit, but Sebastian ignored her utterly, as he returned his focus to the truly fantastic blowjob Hawke was giving him.

The Champion knew precisely what to do to slowly stoke the fire and lead a man toward his final satisfaction. His hot hand gripping and pumping Sebastian's shaft with firm steady movements; shifting the angle of his grip with each stroke to provide just a bit _more_ by the way of friction. He was better than Sebastian could ever have imagined, that was undeniable. In fact, Sebastian was pretty sure this was angling to be one of the _best_ blowjobs of his life. And that was saying something. Sebastian had, had the opportunity to sample some of the finest skill coin could buy. Too soon, he felt the pressure building and brought his hands back to Hawke's hair, giving a gentle tug, warning him to back off. Sebastian didn't want to come again, just yet. This was an experience to be savored.

As the Champion drew back, lessening his grip on Seb's shaft, he called his magic to his other hand and brought it up to cup his sack; gently fondling the sensitive skin, one tingling finger rubbing expertly over the seam of his flesh and making his balls tighten with hot desire. It was almost _too_ intense, over stimulating for certain; bypassing the point where he would normally have cum and making that goal seem almost unattainable at the same time. Sebastian braced himself against the bed post, with an open mouthed groan, his knees weakening and at risk of collapsing on to Hawke with this new rush of sensation.

“Aye, more of that, Lad” He panted, his hips thrusting shallowly into Hawke's mouth again of their own accord. For a few more moments Fell continued as before, then with a wet sounding pop he came off of Seb's cock, making the prince open an eye and glare down in warning at him. But when Sebastian felt that long broad tongue lave over his balls before one of the tender sensitive globes was gently drawn into that hot mouth... he decided to allow the younger man's initiative and simply relaxed into the new sensation, which seemed to send great pulsing waves of warmth coursing through his entire being.

Clearly, Fell wasn't about to seriously try him again so soon. A thrill ran up Sebastian's spine each time he glanced down and caught sight of the Champion's cheek still glowing red where he had struck him. It was impressive how well Fell's skin took color considering how naturally swarthy he was. Sebastian was thrilled at the visual evidence of his power over Hawke; the knowledge only serving to enhance his pleasure.

For a time Fell's mouth lavished attention on his sack, while his talented hands continued to impress the prince with their dexterity. You'd have sworn the man more than half-rogue, based on his skill with those long steady fingers of his – if they weren't softly sparking with the Apostate's magic that was. When he brought his mouth back to Sebastian's prick, licking up the trail of pre-cum that had escaped him, the prince had known he daren't let the man continue, or he was going to have to avail himself of more stamina draught.

“Enough.” He grunted as that delightful pressure became too tempting. “On the bed.” Then when Fell stood. “And lose the trews.” The prince commanded even as he pulled up his own trews to cover himself once again. “You've made a mess of them.”

Fell glanced down and had to admit that Seb was right. In his excitement his cock had been sporadically leaking pre-cum all evening but it seemed as though it had redoubled its efforts since Fell had taken the prince's cock into his mouth, as there was now quite a large wet stain on the front of the fine silken fabric. He shucked the soiled garment and climbed onto the bed practically vibrating with anticipation as he watched Seb pick up and examine the rope Isabela had used to bind him with.

“Have you a knife, Hawke?” Fell nodded toward the desk and watched with avid hunger as the prince retrieved it and measured out two suitable lengths for his purpose. Before walking to the bed chamber's door and opening it. “Call your dog, Hawke.” He ordered. Fell raised an eyebrow in inquiry but, nevertheless, did as Sebastian commanded.

At the sound of her master's call, Vice, was up the stairs in a flash. Small quiet chuffs and woofs escaping her when she saw Sebastian; she began to wriggle and prance with excitement as the man crouched to run his strong bowman's hands over her broad head and shoulders.

“Hello, Lass. Might I borrow this?” He inquired of the dog, his fingers working the clasp of the collar about her thick muscular neck.

_Shit, he's not actually... He is!_ Fell's eyes grew wide and he heard Isabela choke from where she'd made herself comfortable on the window bench.

“I promise you, my lovely, your master shall return it to you come morning.” The prince told the mabari with all the solemnity of a man making a vow, when she stilled and seemed to actually consider pulling free of him. She loved that ridiculous collar that Hawke's mother had bought for her – much to Fell's eternal chagrin.

Leandra had bought it when they'd first moved back into the estate, saying it was the fashion for noble's dogs to wear such frippery. Fell had argued that Vice was a _war dog_ , hardly one of the little lap rats their neighbors trotted about with. He had told his mother _and_ the mabari both that it was ridiculous for his fighting dog to charge into battle wearing pink sapphires about her throat; but females – no matter what species – were crazy, every last one of them. Not only had his mother insisted, but once the silly thing was on her, Vice had absolutely refused to let Fell remove it for anything except baths and the occasional cleaning. After her first bath, Fell had tried simply leaving it off her after his mother's death but the stubborn beast had just carried the damned thing about with her until she'd convinced either Orana or Sandal to put it back on for her.

And now, Seb was going put the foolish thing on _him_. A shocking roll of heat in the pit of his stomach made Fell gasp. Apparently the thought of Seb actually _collaring_ him – taking possession of him in such a symbolic way – was _massively_ provocative to Fell's baser wants.

But honestly – _pink_ sapphires?

Seb quietly shut the door behind the mabari and turned back toward where Fell was reclining, now naked, on the bed. There was a slight hitch in Sebastian's step when he caught his first sight of Fell completely naked. Not that those trews had left much to the imagination... but still this was the first rock hard prick he'd ever encountered under these _particular_ circumstances – and, what was more, it belonged to a man he worked with on a regular basis – a friend, _mostly_. With a small shake of his head Sebastian shoved the point aside. He'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

“It'll clash horribly with my eyes.” Fell chuckled hoarsely, his inner throat one long aching bruise from the prince's earlier mistreatment of it, as Seb held the collar up against the skin of his throat. “And it'll never fit. It might make a good belt for Merrill tho-” Fell cut himself off as Seb deftly wrapped the length of jewel studded leather around his neck twice; proving Hawke wrong as there was now just enough slack left that Seb could fasten it in place with only a finger's width of room between it and Fell's skin.

“Hands and knees, _Bitch_.” Sebastian ordered, sending a violent roiling shudder right through Hawke's core at the sound of the implied capitol letter in Seb's tone. Not only collared but _Named*_. Andraste's mercy it was a miracle Fell didn't simply spill his load right then and there.

“Yes, _your_ _Highness_.” Fell said cheekily as he complied, using bravado to cover his wild reactions at the direction this evening was taking. Another sharp crack rang out as a counter point to Fell's gasp when Sebastian's hand smacked into the flesh of his ass.

“Watch the sass, Bitch.” The prince warned as he brought the longer of the two lengths of rope he'd cut and began weaving it between the two encircling bands made by Vice's collar.

“Will it get me spanked again?” Fell asked somewhat breathlessly and wriggling his ass temptingly.

“No. Clearly you enjoyed that too much.” Seb muttered, finishing whatever he was doing with the rope. When the prince straightened, he was holding the doubled over end of the rope in his hand and gave an experimental tug; Fell found himself not only collared, named and now _leashed_. Shit, Seb could not have been any clearer about his declaration of ownership over Fell if he'd simply whipped it out again and _pissed_ on him.

“There's a good Fereldan dog.”

Fell smirked at Seb's words and then, because he simply couldn't help himself, he said. “You want I should tell you where I keep the Kadis, _Highness_?” Sebastian just smirked right back at him, then twisted the end of the rope; instantly Fell found his air completely choked off.

Seb let him flounder for a moment before he flicked his wrist, undoing whatever it was he'd made the rope and collar combo do. Fell half-collapsed on the bed, gasping, looking at the little innocuous length of rope with a profound new respect.

“Oh you have _got_ to teach me how to do that.” He wheezed. With a sigh Seb reached up and pulled the scrap of cloth they had used to gag him with earlier from around his neck and proceeded to stuff it into Fell's mouth.

“You certainly are a yappy little bitch. Does he always get this chatty in the bed room?” Sebastian asked of the pirate who was now watching events unfold with a healthy dose of intrigue to flavor her unadulterated lust.

“Not usually. Unless he's talking filth-” she shrugged “-he's a _doer_ more than a talker. If I didn't know any better I'd say this is a nervous response.” Fell flashed the pirate a dark look even as a slight flush crept across his clear cheek and up his ears making both Sebastian and Isabela raise their brows at him.

_Interesting..._ Sebastian ran his fingers along Fell's spine and watched the man shiver at his touch; plainly torn between filching away from and pushing back into the contact. Apparently Isabela had the right of it. Hawke was a tense bundle of nervous anticipation. The great warrior mage who felled the Arishok and stood unflinchingly before the Knight Commander as a wealthy - _powerful_ \- free mage, was trembling at _his_ touch. Sebastian _unnerved_ him.

The implicit power was a positively _intoxicating_.

Sebastian, barely suppressed a shiver of satisfaction as he took the smaller length of rope and pulled Hawke's wrists together and began to bind them as well, forcing the man to rest his weight on his elbows instead of his hands, then stepped back in order that he might admire his handy work.

“You do make a very pretty bitch bound and leashed like that.” He commented, as he turned to examine the array of bottles that had been lined up on the top of the bedside table in preparation for the evening’s activities. “Gagged, in particular, is a good look for you, Bitch. You might consider it more often.” Sebastian said, ignoring the bottles of stamina draught that were waiting there and instead picking up one of several clear liquids that looked to be a selection of lubricants. Fell rolled his eyes at Seb's comment, feeling safe enough in his impudence, after all, the prince's back was mostly to him as he examined their collection of Antivan massage oils.

His breath was instantly choked off again as Seb casually twisted his improvised leash. Carefully, the prince uncorked one of the bottles and gave it a cautious sniff, before grimacing and gently re-corking and replacing it -with exaggerated care- on the table before he flicked the leash again allowing Fell to draw in a full breath. When he was able to fill his lungs again, Fell turned and glared at the prince ' _What was that for?'_ as clearly written in his hot red eyes as though he'd spoken the words out loud.

“I warned you about the sass, Bitch.” Seb commented casually, as he poured a few drops from the next vial onto his fingers, testing the feel of it.

_Shit he_ saw _that? Really?_

By this point Fell was looking at Sebastian like he was the most amazing thing in all of creation, as his breathing and heart rate picked up once more. Sebastian's lips twitched, at the sight of Hawke's pule point as it began to race; clearly the Champion enjoyed these types of games very much. Seb moved his hand toward the next bottle and saw the nearly imperceptible widening of Hawke's already lust blown pupils. Ah, so this was the favorite then.

Sebastian took the bottle in hand and moved back to Hawke's side, twisting one of Fell's hands up so that he could hold on the small flask. Then he uncorked it.

“If even a drop is spilled...” Sebastian let the threat hang in the air, fondling the leash. Fell's eyes widened and he nodded his understanding. Sebastian brought a hand forward and caressed the man's cheek, focusing on the new feeling of facial hair beneath his fingers. He trailed his fingers down Hawke's stubble roughened neck then over the man's spectacular shoulders watching as his touch left a trail of gooseflesh in its wake. He continued to trail his finger along the man's spine enjoying the shuddering his touch called forth. But it was when he finally reach the globes of Fell's ass that he got the response he was looking for. When he first dug his fingers into the firm flesh of that pert boyish ass, Fell groaned through the gag and very nearly collapsed in a boneless heap, only saving the tilting flask of lubricant from spilling at the last moment.

“You've been such a naughty little bitch.” Seb murmured stroking the surprisingly smooth skin of Fell's rear end, with an ever more appreciative hand. The faint red stain of his fist smack now nothing more than a slight pink tint on the one cheek. That was something that needed to be rectified. “You've caused so much trouble I hardly know where to begin.” He took a cheek in each hand and squeezed again -hard enough to bruise this time- making Hawke release a deep agonized sounding moan of pleasure through the fabric of the gag. Seb's mouth watered at the feel of the hot firm flesh beneath his fingers.

This was going to be a proper treat.

Swiftly, Sebastian brought his hand back and swung it through the air to land with a satisfying crack on one mouthwatering cheek. “That was for that stunt you pulled at the card game.” He informed the younger man, who groaned and leaned back further into Sebastian's hands. Another two blows this time to the other cheek. “That was for your rude behavior on the path.” Four more in sharp succession, alternating between his targets. “The beach.” Fell's breath could be heard roaring through the man's nose; great deep gasping breaths as he tried to contain himself and not simply writhe before Sebastian like a bitch in heat. The stinging blows lighting up his nerves and making them sing with that oh-so-sweet song of pain. It was all he could do to keep the flask from shaking too much in his hands. “And one more, I think – for the wine.” Sebastian intoned calmly before planting a final ringing smack on Hawke's now glowing rear-end.

Sebastian ran soothing hands over the red, heated, flesh as he glanced up at the Champion's face to make sure that he hadn't taken it too far. Those hadn't been love pats by any means; and they were treading a fine line playing such games without an agreed upon safety in place, but while Fell's chest and head had sagged down to the bed, the eye Sebastian could see was looking back at him with that glazed over gaze that only came upon a man truly lost in the pleasures of his flesh. Satisfied that Fell was still enjoying their play, he leant down and ran his tongue over the blazing red patch he'd painted on the Champion’s skin, alleviating some of the sting. Then, just as Hawke was really beginning to relax under his tongue, Sebastian, ruthlessly bit down, right in the center of the firm mound of the Champion's right ass-cheek. He didn't use enough pressure to _break_ the over-sensitive skin, but it was certainly more than enough to leave a substantial bruise that Hawke would be aware of every time he sat down for _weeks_.

Fell jolted, his body lunging forward in shock as a muffled shout made itself heard around the gag.

“And that-” Said Sebastian calmly as he gently laved his tongue over the indent he'd left behind, which was already taking on the dusky coloring of a truly phenomenal bruise “-was for tying me up.”

 

**.:ox-HMH-xo:.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fin! - HA! JK! Sorry I'm not that cruel – I swear! (:p) 
> 
> So the consensus was that I needed to split this in half 'cause it was Hella long. (Honestly, did you really want to read 23K in a single sitting?) So it's a double posting today!
> 
> *KINK NOTE*
> 
> *Naming*: I refer to this in the chapter warnings at the top as 'Name Calling', for lack of a better self-explanatory term, though this is not actually the case here. 'Name Calling' is when you use hurtful or derogatory slurs with the intention of emotionally wounding the target. 'Naming', on the other hand, if a form of protection against exactly such occurrences with in the world of BDSM. It is a practice closely related to -but not always connected to- collaring, and is used as another stepping stone for any and all participants between the 'real' world and play. It provides one more layer between a Sub or Dom's identity and relationship during a session vs their actual identity and roles outside of Submission and Dominance play. It is not specifically meant to be derogatory, though the names themselves often can be, if the participants enjoy shame and humiliation play. Sebastian's naming of Fell 'Bitch' really came about due entirely to Fell's own use of the word during their first kiss, the close association between Fereldans and their dogs, and then was finally solidified when Seb chose to use Vice's collar in his collaring of Fell; a bitch's collar for his Bitch.
> 
> I believe in the concept of 'tolerance through understanding and information', and hopefully this note has helped reduce any distress this particular example of Naming may have caused in anyone previously unfamiliar with the practice.
> 
> PS - To All My Fellow Canadians - HAPPY THANKS GIVING! - Hopefully this is proving racy enough to keep you all awake despite turkey!


	4. Part Four: A Right Hot Mess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> STOP! THIS WAS A DOUBLE POSTING! 
> 
> A 23k it was voted that this needed to be split in half and I'm posting them back-to-back! 
> 
> If you came straight her /Quick/ go back to the previous chapter!
> 
> If you came her from there... What are you waiting for! We're right in the middle of the juicy bits! Now go on! Off with you!
> 
> (We’ll talk more at the end!)

 

**.:ox-HMH-xo:.**

 

Fell had relaxed with each stroke of those rough calloused bowman's hands as they began to smooth over his burning sensitive flesh, pressing back into the relief even that light pressure brought him. Maker, if he'd known Seb's experience was this well rounded he'd have gone after the man _years_ ago! Fell's entire body was on fire and Sebastian had barely gotten started. Granted, the man had a bit of head start, considering how long Fell had been nursing his own arousal before the prince had even regained consciousness, but still!

That sweet song of pain radiating up his spine from his, now flaming red ass, only served to highlight every other sensation. The smooth coolness of the expensive bedding beneath his shins and forearms. The cold heavy feel of the glass flask in his palm. The ache and sting of his jaw and cheek. The deeper ache of his throat. The desperate _insistent_ throbbing of his prick. All of it was the sweetest ambrosia. They colored his perception of every little touch and caress Sebastian cared to bestow upon him.

The shock of that bite, however -unexpected and unmercifully brutal- sent a spike of the purest adrenaline coursing through him that put even his battle fever and blood lust to absolute shame. His entire body jerked like Seb had just electrocuted him, his heart began to pound as though it would try to break out of his chest and every muscle in his body clenched spasmodically. He had come up off his supporting forearms with a lurch as a ragged shout tore itself from his throat; reawakening the pain of the brutal deep-throating like it was fresh and raw.

It was sheer dumb luck that kept him from spilling the little bottle of oil.

He came down from the endorphin high slowly, as Sebastian began licking the abused flesh, alleviating the tenderness and gently rewarding Fell for his perseverance.

_Shit, that one's gonna leave a mark._ Fell thought, recognizing the feel of the early stages of a spectacular, deep-tissue bruise. _And on my ass! I'm not gonna be able to sit or walk for a week without thinking about Seb doing this to me. If he was aiming to discourage me from asking him to do this again he's going about it_ all _wrong..._ Already Seb had him breathing like a winded courier horse and his muscles were trembling like he'd just gone five rounds with a whole host of Qunari. And _all_ of this was just the appetizer. A shudder ran through him at the thought of what Seb held in store for him by way of the main course. Maker, that great _thick_ cock of his...

For a moment, Fell felt a twinge of trepidation at the thought of Sebastian’s shockingly thoroughbred cock. After all, hadn't Fell been thinking he'd need time to prepare if Varric had said yes? Well, after having had it shoved down his throat, Fell could attest to Sebastian's rod being every bit as thick as any dwarf's. What was more, the man also seemed to have been blessed with length and graceful curvature of the elvhen, besides. And honestly, after _years_ of nothing more than fingers, and a few modest - _by comparison_ \- toys, Fell was distinctly nervous about his ability to _actually_ take the prince's prick.

He felt a shifting of the mattress beneath him and so managed not to jump again when Seb's hand came down between his shoulders. That hand started rubbing small calming circles between his shoulder-blades. Like all good Doms, Sebastian's instinct was to sooth away the hurts and stresses they put their Subs through. Fell closed his eyes in grateful appreciation of that natural caring instinct. He didn't miss the irony that it was something he normally scoffed at in the monk's nature.

A hand appeared in his field of vision as Sebastian ran a finger around the lip of the little bottle, testing to see if Fell had failed in his designated task. Fell was probably more surprised than the prince when that finger came away dry.

“Good, Lad. A job done properly. I think you have earned a reward.” Seb mused, relieving Fell of his burden, as Fell's nerves once again grew taught with eager anticipation. “Let's put this to good use, shall we?” Seb asked, waving the little bottle in front of Fell's nose, making him moan his agreement through the gag and wiggle his rump in a fair imitation of Vice as Sebastian shifted down the bed till he was once again behind the Champion's hindquarters. “I want you to hold still. Think you can do that for me, my little bitch?”

Fell moaned again, a sweet wounded sounding moan, when the cooling tingling oil was poured in a thick stream down the crack of his ass. He felt the river of it flow down over his balls where Seb's hand was waiting to catch the excess. He was pleasantly surprised and totally unprepared for Seb taking the excess and rubbing it forward over his balls and up over the length of his cock.

He knew this was Seb's first time with a man so he hadn’t been expecting to receive much attention there. Not exactly a hardship, Fell was completely capable of finding his release without any stimulus on that front if need be, but it was always a welcome bonus when the two sensations were mixed. So, when those rough bowman's hands casually caressed him, spreading that tinging oil over his aching shaft he just about expired, his eyes squinting shut as his cock jumped and threatened to shame him unforgivably. He'd never live it down if the first time Sebastian's hand touched him he went and spent his load. Never mind that he'd now been hard enough to _drill_ his way into the Deep Roads since this whole episode had begun; the simple fact was Isabela would never let him live it down for the rest of his days.

Seb didn't exactly _linger_ , just pumped his hand over Fell's shaft a few times to get him slick with the excess oil before trailing his fingers slowly back up until they rested over the puckered pink flesh of Fell's anus. _Here_ the prince took his time. Slowly circling the sensitive tissue, which Fell could feel pulsing and trembling under Sebastian's expert touch. He should have known. Any man this skilled at such wonderful bed-games clearly knew his way around a body's back door. The oil started to do its trick; feeling so deliciously cold that it almost burned as it tingled across his skin. It made Fell's cock and balls kick and crawl, respectively, desperate for any kind of contact in order to escape the torment of it.

Seb must have started to feel the oil's reaction on the skin of his hand as he chuckled darkly.

“I see now why this is the favorite. It’s quite intense...” As he said that last he finally pushed that tormenting finger past the first ring of muscle and Fell immediately started to tremble with want. Every nerve and fiber of his being screaming at him to lean back and sink onto the intrusion. To take it in deeper. To roll his hips and make it brush against him _just so_. He held himself still by the barest scraps of his remaining willpower.

Seb didn't help. As soon as his finger slid into Fell's entrance the archer let out a small broken sounding moan that made both Isabela and Fell damn near swoon upon hearing it.

“Soo hot.” The prince purred. “You're damning me to the Void with your heat, Hawke. I hope you're prepared to take responsibility for that.” Sebastian muttered breathlessly as he began pumping that gloriously long finger in and out of Fell's eager ass. Mesmerized by how that small muscle swallowed round the intrusion then clung to it as he pulled it back out again. When he added a second finger Fell couldn't take it anymore and _had_ to press back. He could feel the prince's fingers so temptingly near that magic spot where the world came apart, but he never quite managed to touch it. It was making the Champion come a little unhinged.

He barely managed to rock his hips back before that damnable collar started to tighten around his throat once more. Not cutting off his breath entirely this time- just restricting his air a bit – a warning that he was _about_ to break a command. Fell whimpered as he tried to hold himself steady as Sebastian began scissoring them; softening and stretching him in preparation for the soon-to-be much larger encroachment of his _alarmingly_ thick prick.

“If you crook you fingers just a little-” Isabela said, once again languidly running her hand over herself now that Sebastian had gotten down to business.

“Quiet.” Sebastian snapped at her, cutting her off. He was in charge here and he wasn't about to let the pirate dictate any more of this situation than she already had. For a moment he felt a twinge of guilt over doing this. Fell was in-love with the slattern for some unfathomable reason; Sebastian had seen it, clear as day, out on that beach. It was hardly _right_ of him to be taking advantage of the pirate's indifference to that fact just so he might have a taste of the forbidden fruit that was Hawke. True, it had been, Hawke himself who'd gone about seducing him but it was at _her_ behest that the Champion had done so. She was the reason this was happening at all; Fell had only decided to bend his considerable talent upon Sebastian because of _her_ desires and wants. Sebastian would be damned before he gave her anymore control in this situation than she already had.

“Look I'm just trying to he-”

“I said quiet, Whore!” Seb snapped, his fingers curling instinctively in his frustration. His palm itching with the desire to offer the pirate the same lesson Fell had already learned at his hands, despite simply _knowing_ that Isabela would not be so apt a student as Hawke had proved to be. But something remarkable happened as a result of that little twitch of his fingers that distracted the prince quite thoroughly.

When his fingers jerked – Fell _screamed_.

There was no other word for it.

His head snapped back, his entire body shuddered, and that tight passage clenched and fluttered around Sebastian's fingers.

_Well, that's new..._

“Never mind then.” Isabela's voice drifted to him sounding smugly satisfied. “Obviously you found it.”

Again Sebastian ran his finger over that particular spot. Now that he was paying attention he could actually _feel_ a change in the texture of the spot and again Fell very nearly broke apart in his hands. A whimpering distraught moan quivering out of the man's throat and every one of his muscles began to twitch with the strain of holding him steady.

“Easy there, Stud.” Isabela cautioned from her seat at the window, her voice sounding more than a touch breathless at the sight of Fell trembling like a lone leaf in an autumn storm. His body breaking out in a beautiful sheen of sweat as Sebastian continued to toy with this new discovery. “He's really responsive on that front; he'll cum if you keep that up.”

“He wouldn't dare.” Seb said, more than a little breathless himself. This is what he'd been looking for ever since he saw that trembling shuddering boy Fell had turned into on the beach. His heart was beginning to race as Fell desperately struggled to obey his command while Sebastian sent what were clearly some very intense waves of pleasure coursing through his body. “Not without my permission. Isn't that right, my pretty bitch?”

Fell just groaned, too far gone in the swirling chaos of shattering pleasure Seb was Void-bent on making him crack under. When the prince added a third finger Fell's will and body began to fail him; every muscle began to scream at him to move! To rock back onto Sebastian's hand and assuage the fire the archer had built in the pit of his stomach. He turned his head and gave Seb a desperate, pleading look.

Sebastian looked at the Champion’s wide watery eyes, like glistening shining gems, in a face now flushed red with strain at the man's hot racing blood, and took some pity on him. He leaned forward, over Hawke's twitching shuddering back, to bite the man on the ear before issue his next order.

“Beg.” He commanded, his free hand coming forward to pull the, now sodden, gag from Fell's mouth before he sat back in order to better take in the younger man's performance.

“Please.” Fell didn't even wait for the fabric to fully clear his lips before he commenced his begging. Unlike Sebastian, he had absolutely no qualms with begging for just about _anything_ in this situation. “Please Ser, I need it! I need it inside me! - _Sweet fuck_!-” Fell cried out his body shuddering with strain as Sebastian circled his fingers around the tight knot of nerves, making the rest of Fell's nervous system explode in sympathetic agony. “Please Ser, at least let me move! I ca-Ugn-I can't! Not anymore! I'm gonna die if you make me hold still any longer! PLEASE!”

“You beg so prettily, my Bitch.” Sebastian chuckled. He removed his fingers from Fell's hot, moist core, pushing down his trews once more before making short work of slicking his own cock up with what remained of that tingling Antivan oil. Fell watched him do this, his breath coming in ever shorter more excitable pants. Finally ready, Sebastian began lining the head of his cock up with the fluttering eager ring of muscle. Pressing gently against it, his eyes devouring the sight of that little star as it bucked and spasmed, wriggling like a cheap harlot trying to lure Seb's cock in. Sebastian resisted -though it was a near thing- instead he just ran the head of his cock over that little knot of puckered skin. Luxuriating in the exquisite silken texture and the blazing heat that was coming off of the man's tanned and softened behind in sumptuous waves.

“Tell me what you want, Bitch.” He murmured, his turquoise eyes riveted to that little opening, his mind racing ahead to just how amazing it was going to feel once he was inside that hot tight channel even as he denied himself the actual pleasure of it.

“I want you to fuck me, Ser.” Fell didn’t hesitate. It was novel how little shame he had in this. Seb's previous experiences usually saw his Subs stuttering or mumbling at this point -blushing till it looked painful – but Fell just came out with it, and he wasn't afraid to get colorful in his efforts to convince his Dom to do what he wanted him to do. “I want you to bury that magnificent burly cock so far inside me, Ser, that I break around it! I want you balls deep in my ass, Ser, and pounding me till I have bruises from your hips! Please Ser! Fuck me, Ser- _**FUCK!**_ ”

With each of Fell's pleading 'Sers' Sebastian pushed forward marginally, listening intently as the tone and quality of the Champion's voice grew ever more desperate and ragged, until on that final 'Ser' the muscle gave and, with a strangled moan from the archer, the head of Sebastian's cock slid into the deliriously hot - _tight!-_ space, eliciting that roared 'fuck' from the Champion's raw and broken throat.

Fell was on the very edge of hyperventilating. Even eager and well prepared as he was, Sebastian's cock was _thick_. Fell was very nearly in a panic over the intense burning pain -so closely related to the ecstasy of pleasure- that began spreading through him; radiating outward from where his and Sebastian’s flesh was finally joined.

Instantly, both men began to draw in huge needy gulps of air and a sweat broke out over their flesh. It had been so long since Sebastian had done anything like this that he'd quite forgotten just how intense anal penetration could be, and the fact that Fell was hotter than an inferno only heightened the experience until even at this slight depth Sebastian was pretty sure he was on his way to having an experience in transcendence. He lost some of his hard won control at the intensity of it, his own muscles trembling and his fingers losing their hold on Fell's leash as they grew weak and nerveless; his mind feeling oddly disconnected from his body.

Fell's mind had ceased to function entirely. All he could do was continue to exist. Cut adrift by the insane dump of chemicals his brain had drowned him in the moment Seb had truly breached him.

After a moment of trembling on the edge of oblivion, Sebastian managed to open his eyes and look down at the Champion; he instantly recognized the flaw in his plan. He could not see Fell's face. The picture of the man's back, every muscle and tendon taught with strain, glowing under his sweat in the soft fire and lamp light, -while delicious- was not what Sebastian wanted.

He wanted to _see_ the man. To watch as Hawke, who made everyone clear a path before him by sheer force of will, lost all control. He wanted to see that devil-may-care disregard wiped from his features to be replaced with the desperate driven _need_ for him.

Sebastian wanted to see the Champion _break_.

It took the prince a moment to gather his purpose in order to do what he did next. It went against his every instinct and yet he hardened his resolve so that he might act upon his deeper desires.

He reached forward, putting out his hand and grabbed Hawke by the hair; dragging the man's head back so that he could see one bloodshot, watering eye as he leaned forward as best he could without allowing himself to slide into the heavenly furrow of Hawke's core.

“No.” He said.

Sebastian admitted to a deep satisfaction at the look of sheer undisguised _pleading_ panic that widened that one watering eye, till the white showed all the way around the bloody iris; Sebastian was quite sure it was every inch the same look the Champion had received from him back on the beach. “I will _not_ fuck you, Hawke. You _torment_ me, _humiliate_ me, _seduce_ me from the righteous path. And now, you would lie there and have me just _give_ you all you desire?” Seb panted through clenched teeth. “I think not.”

Sebastian’s quiet sigh of regret as he pulled free of the Champion was utterly drowned-out by the agonized sob that escaped the man himself at the loss. Fell collapsed to the bedding, looking so lost and confused that Seb felt a huge swell of desire and affection for the younger man somewhat overwhelm him, and a small amused smile began to play around the corners of his mouth. At his heart, Fell Hawke was a very straight forward, _direct_ creature. There really wasn't much in the way of true subtlety about him. It was a failing Sebastian found to be quite common amongst the mages he knew.

“Maker, Seb please...” Fell sobbed into his hands. “You can't – not now, not like thi-” another sob choking off the rest of the Champion's words. Out of the corner of his eye, Sebastian saw Isabela get to her feet in a rush that he was sure was meant to end with him restrained again in some way. With a sigh for the woman's lack of understanding he held up a hand to forestall whatever hostile action she was contemplating taking, as he again leaned down to Fell's ear letting his tongue snake out and caress the curve of it, reassuring the apostate that his words and actions did not signal the _end_ of their game, just a change in the direction.

“I shall not _give_ you what you want, Lad. If you want it from me, you are going to have to _take_ it for yourself.”

Fell's head snapped up and he looked at Seb with immense incredulous eyes. A single tear spilling over and running down his cheek. Sebastian leaned forward and licked the salt water from the man's rough cheek with tender care, gathering up the leash in his hand again as he did so, before he began backing away from the still prone and stunned mage, shedding his trews completely as he went. He came to rest his back against the head board, his legs stretched out before him. When Fell just continued to stare, Seb quirked his lips and gave a tug of the leash.

“Come, Bitch. Or don’t you want your ride?” Understanding hit Fell like a charging bronto and he scrambled to do as Seb asked. He made a hash of it. It was an awkward trick, moving on the plush mattress with his hands still bound.

Licking his lips nervously, he clumsily managed to crawl over the prince's legs until he was straddling Sebastian, his hands braced against the man's warm tan chest, his body trembling as he pulled his legs up in order to position himself properly. With his hands bound like this it was going to be a challenge; he could either aid his balance _or_ reach between his legs and position Sebastian where he needed him, but not both, and he certainly couldn't spread himself. He was going to need help, Unless...

“Please, Ser.” Fell implored, holding his bound wrists out in a mute plea for release.

“No.” Seb said meditatively, fingering the place where the rope dug in and had already started to rub Fell's wrists a little raw, while at the same time displaying his own rope burned wrist to the Champion in a silent rebuke for the actions Fell had taken to get him here. “No, I think this stays. I like the look of it too much.” Fell licked his lips nervously

“Please, Ser. I'll not be able to... open... myself like this” Fell reasoned, feeling a slight hint of a flush crawling along his cheeks. Maker he hated _talking_ about this part. He was fine with the _doing_ part on himself or others. But for some reason when even it came to talking about it, it left him feeling indecent. Which was utter nonsense, and yet...

“That could indeed prove to be a problem.” Murmured the prince, his tone _maddeningly_ even to Fell's ears. But Seb's eyes were bright and sparkling with mirth. The gaze he leaved at the younger man was a mocking one. Damnit. He was going to make him ask for it wasn't he... For the first time, Fell hesitated and Seb latched on to that fact like a shark scenting blood.

“Well, I guess we've reached an impasse. If you cannot do it yourself without being untied... and I will not untie you...”

_Shit._

Feeling his face turn red, Fell muttered. “Wouldyouspreadmeser.”

“I'm sorry, what was that? You must speak clearly when you ask me for something, my little bitch.”

“Would you please spread me, Ser.” Fell finally managed to grind out.

“With pleasure.” Sebastian chuckled, his warm calloused hands coming around his thighs to grab hold and spread his cheeks. Eager to get as far away for that little episode as possible, Fell instantly sought out his balance and reached down to line that thick rod up with his pulsing desperate hole which Sebastian had exposed for him.

“May I, Ser?” He breathed, his hand reflexively tightening its grip when Sebastian's cock jumped in is hand.

“You may.”

And with a careful, controlled motion, Fell began lowering himself down on the great hulking spear of Sebastian's prick. Impaling himself in agonizingly slow steady increments.

As soon as the prince's crown was once again fully within him, Fell brought his hands back to Sebastian's chest knowing that he was at a real risk of losing his precarious balance as once again his body began to tremble at intensity of the intrusion. His mind was screaming at him that this was an impossible thing that he was trying to do. That it was too thick and too long. That he'd _never_ done something like this with a cock of such magnitude. _No Shit_ , he thought wryly back at the panicked little voice as it desperately screamed at him to stop. Sweet mercy, it was going to absolutely destroy him! It was madness to let this continue! Fell, ruthlessly shoved that voice down smothering it before it could break his resolve; biting down on his lip until he tasted blood. Slowly. Slowly sinking down till he just knew he was going to scream with the pressure of it. But also knowing that if he could just take him, the reward would be beyond measure.

His legs began to quiver, the muscles convulsing with the strain.

“You’re halfway there, Lad.” Came Sebastian's gasping breathless voice in what was surely meant to be a reassuring tone. It had somewhat the opposite effect, however.

_Half? Halfway... ONLY Half fucking way!_

His head began to shake in negation as he brought his bound hands to his mouth a strangled groan bubbling out of him as he bit down on his knuckles. There was no way he could take that length _again_ in addition to what was already buried inside him.

It was impossible! Instinctively he started to draw up...

Those hands on his hips changed their grip, supporting him and trapping him at the same time as warm thumbs began to rub small soothing circles on his hips. Muttered words of encouragement flowed up to his ears, that rich Starkhaven accent now so thick Fell could barely make any sense of it. But that sweet rich voice in that soothing, coaxing tone calmed the rising panic, and when Seb began to put a bit of pressure onto his hips, Fell capitulated and with a pained whimper allowed himself to sink down once more at the prince's urging. It was tortuously slow going and they were both of them breathing like they'd just run for miles; Fell, was _trembling_ like he'd run those miles as well, his legs in particular shaking hard enough that Fell wondered if they'd have the strength to move him when he finally adjusted to that behemoth of a cock he was sitting on.

Finally, with an incoherent rush of heavenly accented praise, Fell felt the cheeks of his ass make contact with the prince's thighs and Sebastian was finally seated within him to the hilt. Fell took a moment to just breathe, taking as much of the pressure off of his legs as he could. He leaned forward to lie trembling and shuddering on the warm comforting expanse of Sebastian's chest. Drifting somewhat in a fog as the prince's hands ran in slow comforting circles over the taught muscles of Fell's lower back. Feeling the need to reassure himself that he'd done as Sebastian wanted, Fell reached up and dragged himself up for a desperate, needy kiss.

Sebastian obliged him with an indulgent chuckle. Allowing the contact, and kissing the man back for the first time with a feeling of tangible, caring, affection when their lips met. He was beginning to understand Fell's need to confirm that this would go no further than this one night. He was also coming to comprehend the infatuation that seemed to linger over the Champion's previous lovers despite the nastiness that surrounded the ending of those relationships. If the Champion gave so thoroughly of himself in bed to all his dalliances then it would be incredibly easy to fall into the trap of loving him, and Sebastian already recognized that when this night was done he would never be able to look at the man again without feeling some stirring of desire for him.

Hawke's lip and tongue quivered against Sebastian's own. The touch of them feeling craven yet hesitant. His mouth begging Sebastian for more reassurance and praise. It fired the prince's blood all over again and suddenly that amazing heat and exquisite pressure was simply no longer enough; Sebastian needed to feel Hawke move. It had become imperative to his continued survival. He pulled the man's head tight to his own, taking the sweet kiss from gentle to brutal in an instant. When Hawke began to pant into his mouth, the archer broke the kiss and shoved Hawke back until he was sitting upright and, with a final swat on one warm cheek, he signaled a return to the business at hand.

“Enough!” Sebastian grunted. “Move, Bitch.” Fell hissed, but immediately rocked back onto his heels and begin to shift himself along that spectacular length. Savoring every scrap of pain laced pleasure the act of rising and falling on the man brought to him. Finally, the Champion got a bit of his own back as Sebastian's eyes glazed over and he lost his focus; his mind overrun with sweet glorious pleasure.

_Oh Sweet Maker! Why would you make this so wonderful then ask us to deny it?_ For the first time since he'd taken his full vows -since he'd _truly_ dedicated himself to the Maker- Sebastian questioned the reasoning and validity of the Chantry's need for chastity amongst its servants. This act was the act of life, and joy, and love itself – all that was virtuous made real and tangible. How could _anything_ be served by denying this?

The prince let his head fall back against the head board, simply reveling in the heat. The dark steaming depth of Hawke's deep road. It had been so incredibly long since he'd felt anything like this. So long since he'd allowed himself such a selfish greedy feast of the physical. Fell started to roll his hips changing the motion so it brought new and forgotten crests of pleasure on each stroke, Sebastian finally found himself lost in remembrance of an ecstasy that had nothing to do with his _spiritual_ passions.

_So lovely._ He moaned within his mind, even as he bit back the true moans that were threatening to escape his throat.

It was true, that at this point it had been so long since he'd felt _anything_ beyond the perfunctory touch of his own hand, that surely even Isabela's overused and sloppy cunt would have felt good to him; but he _wasn't_ buried in the loose hipped pirate. No, he was sunk deep into the silk and steel sleeve that was Fell Hawke; and it was like the man had been _made_ to take him. It was such a perfect storm of fit and movement that it was very nearly enough to see Sebastian expire from pure, undiluted pleasure.

Then Hawke's rhythm and pace picked up, making the man keen as he found the angle and spot that saw Sebastian's length dragging with more contact over that sweet spot of burning pleasure, and the sounds the apostate made broke Sebastian's will utterly. His hips kicked up off the bed, matching the mage's movements; pushing the contact deeper and encouraging the man to increase his tempo further.

Sebastian could feel the rising wave of climax coiling like a spring deep in the pit of his being and he had to grit his teeth; fighting ruthlessly to stave off the on-coming tide. He needed to see Hawke come first. He opened his eyes to look up at the other man and Sebastian very nearly lost his struggle at the sight of Fell's eyes rolling back into his head; a deep shuddering cry reverberated through the mage's chest.

“Sweet Maker! Ser, I want to cum!” Fell groaned, his rhythm stuttering a bit as he tried to keep up with Sebastian's pace even as the muscles in his legs began to fail him. The pained frantic lost look on the Champion's face was everything Sebastian had dreamed it would be, and the sight of it sent an overwhelming thrill through the core of him, even as it bolstered the failing walls of his willpower; it allowed him to reassert some of his control. Fell's submission drawing out his own dominance like salt did moisture.

“Not yet.” Sebastian ground out, fighting his own imminent orgasm tooth and nail.

"Please Ser! I _need_ it!” Fell pleaded with him, his bound hands trying to catch hold of his cock as it bobbed and swayed with their combined movements. Sebastian twisted the leash in warning and watched as Fell's face took on a darker purplish hue for a moment as the air the man so desperately needed to fuel his efforts was restricted to within an inch of full stop.

“Hands above your head, Bitch.” He ordered. Weeping tears of frustration and need, Fell complied raising his hands just as Sebastian had ordered, but his arms were shaking with the effort. He lasted maybe two more strokes before it became too much, and closing his eyes, Fell threw his head back and _wailed._

“Bloody Maker! I Can't! Please!” Then... in a small whisper, one touched with the first hint of true humility Sebastian had heard from the younger man all evening – the sweetest word ever spoken in the common tongue escaped the Champion's lips. “ _Master._ ”

_Sweet deliverance!_ The moment _that_ title escaped Hawke's lips Sebastian broke. With that admission of total surrender Fell had tipped him past the point of no return, and as he felt his own orgasm start with that terrifying slowness that Sebastian recognized as the sign of an oncoming climax sure to be ferocious and devastating in its power; the sudden retreat of the tide heralding a tsunami.

“NOW!” Sebastian shouted. Two ragged thrusts and Fell went completely rigid above him; his hole clenching and fluttering around Sebastian's cock as the man's cock kicked once... twice... and Sebastian twisted the leash cutting off the mage's air just as their final orgasm crashed over them both; both men emptying their seed in a searing hot rush of release. The monk into the Champion, and the Champion all over himself and the monk.

Fell's vision darkened, then caught fire as his body tried to make sense of the conflicting states. When his cock kicked for the third time, only to have the prince twist the rope and leave his body screaming for oxygen the resultant dump of endorphins had resulted in Fell's brain exploding at the intensity of the accompanying waves of euphoria. With a final soundless strangled cry he collapsed, falling into a pit of darkness and oblivion. His consciousness finally caving under the pressure of so great a wave of sheer ecstasy. He struggled for half a moment trying to fight back the blackness in a panic over his lack of air, but then Sebastian's fingers were at his throat, loosening the rope and pulling the leash from the collar completely.

“It's alright, Lad, I've got you.” Came the quiet panted reassurance and Fell gave into his mind's insistent need for rest and let the darkness rush up to greet him.

 

 

**.:ox-HMH-xo:.**

 

 

Isabela lay in a slumped heap by the window, her own breathing almost as spent and ragged as the two men's. Their combined effort and tandem orgasm having broken over her in a tangible wave that saw her own body responding in sympathetic agony. Bloody fuck, she'd _never_ had such an intense orgasm under her own hand before...

Unsurprisingly, she was the first of the three of them to recover. Finally able to take a deep satisfying breath she opened her eyes and looked over at the heap of tanned and sweating skin that had formerly consisted of two rather attractive men.

Andraste's dripping cunt, she had seen some pretty intense rutting before, but that had been... well it had been something else that was for certain.

Looking over at the monk and apostate as she came down from the natural high of her orgasm, Isabela began to become aware of another feeling: an ugly darkness uncoiling in her chest at the sight of the two men as they lay panting and gasping in each other's embrace. With a bitter taste in her mouth, she recalled Hawke's words back in the Rose _'You better not go getting jealous on me!'_ He'd said.

Yup, that was it alright. There was no denying that looking over at where the two men lay, -Hawke collapsed over Sebastian's chest, supported by the archer's strong arms- that the feeling rising up from the pit of Isabela's stomach shared more than just a nodding acquaintance with jealousy.

That the green-eyed monster was alive and well within her was a bit of a shock to the duelist.

This was exactly what she had wanted to see. And now that she had it, she might be persuaded to admit she was regretting it.

A speck.

A bit.

A little

O _Bollocks!_ A Whole Fucking Lot.

When she'd said she wanted to see Hawke reduced to a puddle, she didn't count on just how threatening an experience it would be to actually see it happen. To watch as someone _else_ utterly ruined him.

And this game that the two men were playing had such a _possessive_ feel to it. Sebastian wasn't just dominating Fell – He was _owning_ him; and that bothered the pirate on a level that she'd never encountered before. Whilst she wouldn’t go so far as to say that Fell was hers...

Screw it! He was!

He was _hers_ -damn it all!- and while she didn't mind sharing her toys, this didn't _feel_ like sharing. This felt like _theft_. Sebastian was stealing him right before her eyes and there was nothing she could do about it. After all _she'd_ asked for him to do it.

She watched with narrowed eyes as that duplicitous bastard ran soothing hands over her lover. Murmuring quiet nothings in that damnable accent of his to the barely conscious Hawke. She might have possibly muttered a rude suggestion of just where the monk could stuff his bloody murmurings at the sight. In the quiet aftermath of their coupling apparently her voice had carried over to the bed, for Sebastian's eyes had moved from the stirring form of the man collapsed over his chest to her.

Smug git went and _smirked_ at her. The corner of his lip twitching with a clearly superior air. _Can you do this to him?_ That little half-smile seemed to mock her. _Do you think he'll ever be happy with what you have to offer him again after this?_ Isabela broke the contact instead turning to look out over the courtyard where that damn mabari of his was sniffing and scratching at the bedraggled garden the Champion had left to run wild after his mother's passing.

Everything about this was just so fucking confusing. Whatever happened to the good old days? Days when she met. She chased. She fucked. She left.

Life used to be so simple.

_I never should have come back for another round. No matter how amazing a fuck he was. How many times has Varric told you. 'No matter how good it tastes that first time, Rivaini, it's all just bile when you get a second go at it.'_

She'd obviously come back for one too many tastes of Fell Hawke some time back, and only _now_ was she beginning to realize she was drunk on him. Balls. She was so screwed.

“Wake up, Hawke.” Sebastian's voice roused her from her disturbing, and somewhat melancholy, thoughts, shocking her right out of her dower feelings with what he said next. “I think your harlot is in need of some of her own. And I'm not done with you yet, my pretty little bitch-” The prince's lip's quirked as he heard the echo of the Champion's early words in his own “-not by a long shot.”

 

 

**.:ox-HMH-xo:.**

 

 

Hawke struggled to make sense of Sebastian's words. His mind cut adrift from his wrecked and quivering body.

They weren't done? _That can't be right._

Fell didn't know how there could possibly be more. He tried to sit up and look at the man underneath him, but had to settle for merely raising his head somewhat feebly. Seb's sparkling blue eyes were looking at him with more than just a touch of amusement in their turquoise depths.

“Sebastian, you know I appreciate the sentiment but I'm right knackered.” He mumbled, looking away from the intensity of those bright eyes, feeling a little flustered from the predatory look on Sebastian's face. Sebastian caught and held his chin, forcing Fell to look at him once again, then Fell found a bottle pressed to his lips.

“Drink.” And Fell capitulated to his master's wishes. Falling back in the rabbit hole with a hopeless groan as the stamina draught washed over his tongue and sent that familiar shuddering wash of energy and power surging through him. Sebastian availed himself of a second dose as well before working to remove the bindings from Fell's wrists. Fell groaned again to feel the man's softening cock begin to twitch and stiffen within him anew as the potion went to work. Fell rocked back once, experimentally testing just how ruined his back door really was, and had to bite his lip to stifle a pained yowl that tried to jump free of his chest.

“Stop that.” Seb warned his own eyes watering a bit. Clearly he was a little overwrought and sensitive as well. “Off, Bitch.” He demanded. His hands helping Fell's hips rise so that he might remove himself from the impaling shaft of Sebastian's cock. Fell just about passed out again at the sweet gut churning feeling of having Sebastian's cock actually leave him. A much needed relief to the overwhelming pressure of so huge a member, but at the same time, an almost sickening sense of loss at being left so terribly -miserably!- _empty_.

As soon as the blocking dam of the prince's prick was free of him, Fell's attention was hijacked by the feel of Sebastian's still warm seed sliding and dripping out of what surely must have be his positively _gaping_ hole.

Sebastian chuckled as he felt the results of their coupling poor out of the man to join the already messy puddle Fell had left on his torso.

“You've made quite the mess, my little bitch.” Purred the prince. Swiping a finger through one of the cooling lines of ejaculate which painted the apostate's own belly, offering the sperm covered finger to the Champion. “Perhaps you should clean it up?” Fell groaned, then parted his lips and sucked the whole of Sebastian's finger into his scalding hot mouth, sucking on it greedily. Sebastian's eyes widened at how eager and wonton the man could still be for such a thing. And quickly repeated the gesture with the other hand, using two fingers and scooping up more this time, just to see him do it again. “It tastes good, then?” He murmured, transfixed by the sight and feel of Fell licking his fingers clean.

The Champion smiled, licking his lips and reaching his own hand down to drag one of his long digits through the pearly lines on Sebastian's chest before raising it to the bowman's lips.

“How about you taste for yourself?” He said, smearing a small amount across Sebastian's full lips. Reflexively, Sebastian licked the moist substance from his lips and was surprised at the salty tang his tongue was met with; so unlike the taste of a woman. He parted his lips further and let Fell move the soiled digit between them until he too found himself suckling at the apostate’s fingers. Sebastian closed his eyes savoring that unique bitter saltiness in a way that he'd never have thought possible. Shocked to find that he almost _enjoyed_ the taste. When he had cleaned Hawke's finger entirely, he opened his eyes to see Fell looking down at him with eyes the size of saucers.

“Shit, Seb. What I wouldn't give to see what that mouth of yours could do...”

Sebastian's eyes flashed and he bit down on the mage's finger hard enough to make Fell curse and pull it clear of those gleaming teeth in a hurry.

“You're getting awfully forward, Bitch. Don't make me teach you your place again. Now finish cleaning up your mess.” Sebastian growled.

Fell's eye glazed over and he regarded the puddle of cum on Sebastian's torso and coating the man's cock. With more urgency than grace he got his legs to one side of the prince and began licking up their combined essence. His tongue exploring every curve of muscle. The ridges of Seb's six-pack. The slight indent of the man's navel. The narrow trail of wiry auburn curls. He used his tongue to make sure that no trace of their rutting remained on that gorgeous tanned skin before moving over to the monk's cock and taking every care to lick it _just_ as meticulously clean. Once the job was done though, he couldn't just walk away from such a toothsome temptation as was presented by Sebastian's handsome cock. So instead, he once again took the tip into his mouth playing his tongue and cheeks over the sensitive, alluring flesh.

A rumbling laugh greeted his enthusiasm.

“You are a right little cock _slave_ aren't you, Bitch?” Fell just took the man a little deeper into his mouth by way of answer. “Aye, that's all very well but I would much rather fuck you again this evening, so enough.” Fell's gut rolled and his cock jumped at how casually Seb suggested that he would be burying his brute of a cock inside him again in the near future. But the taste of himself mixed with Sebastian's own essence and the blissful feel of a cock running over his tongue... Just a few more moments.

Smack!

Fell's tender ass, which had only _just_ started to calm down, exploded into delicious fire all over again as the prince landed another smarting blow on it.

“You overreach.” He said stretching forward and giving a sharp yank on the collar; it was less effective at cutting off his air now that the leash was off of him, but it got the message across just fine. “Now _off_. Or do I need to leash you again like an unruly pup?”

“No, Master.” Fell felt a tug at the corner of his mouth and had to stamp down on the proud little smirk that threatened to appear on his lips at the hitch in Sebastian’s breath and the widening of his eyes when Fell called him 'Master' for the second time. Smirking now would definitely see him in some trouble. And Fell wasn't sure his ass or throat were recovered enough to take another beating.

“Good.” Seb said, sounding a little breathless as he released Fell's collar. “Now I want to see you _crawl_ over there and put that eager clever mouth of yours to good use cleaning up the mess your whore has made of her smalls. And when I'm satisfied she's clean enough, I'll consider rewarding your slavish nature with another round.”

 

 

**.:ox-HMH-xo:.**

 

 

“Andraste's Maker fucking bloody hag sacks! Fucking Shit-blasted Son-of-a-bitch Chantry Git! SEBASTIAN! Make him fucking stop already! FUCK~!”

Sebastian settled a little further into his seat and took another sip of the exceptionally robust and pleasant rum he'd found stashed in one of the Champion's desk drawers. Enjoying watching the pirate writhe and squirm and scream for cessation. It had been clear immediately that Fell's clever tongue worked a cunt every bit as effectively as a cock, and Sebastian had enjoyed the show as Fell's slattern wench melted into Fell's mouth, panting and moaning like the sex addled whore she was. It was also clear to the prince that she was used to a certain amount of relentless pleasure from her lover.

He'd decided to take this opportunity to teach her a lesson in _real_ control and pleasure.

So he'd poured himself a drink and sat down next to the pair to watch for the moment when they would tell him they normally stopped. Sure enough, the moment came when both of them relaxed marginally. Isabela allowing her limbs to go slack and leaning back into the cool pane of glass at her back, and Fell's muscles softened as he started to settle back onto his haunches.

“No.” Was all Sebastian had said, reaching down and pressing Fell's mouth once more to the slick and swollen cleft of the Rivaini pirate's womanhood. Fell had responded to his touch like it was a hot brand and had instantly rushed to do as his new Master commanded.

Now Isabela was a writhing mess; desperately trying to escape the Champion's attentions. But every time she raised herself up Fell simply followed her. He knew the rules, even without Sebastian having to explicitly speak them. He wasn't to stop until his Master commanded, and so he chased after that bit of tender flesh with a ruthless drive and determination. Sebastian simply sat back and enjoyed the show. Waiting for that moment when the woman would crack under the onslaught.

“Maker damn it all to the Void and back! Sebastian PLEASE!” She cried, tears running down her cheeks as her hips kicked forward again and the flush of yet another orgasm spread over her skin. Before she collapsed once more. Fell kept his face buried between her legs and Sebastian could tell that though the pirate was limp, his little bitch was still hard at work. “Sebastian, please.” Isabela panted looking at him with bloodshot, watering eyes.

Sebastian smiled a superior, arrogant little smile savoring the moment of his victory. Finally feeling avenged for the innumerable innuendos and torments the pirate had bestowed upon him over the years.

“Perhaps now you'll be less eager to encourage your pet to bring home unwilling partners in the future.” He said, reaching down and tugging at Fell's hair so that he finally removed his face from the woman's folds; his cheeks and chin slick and shining with her wetness.

“Well I'm certainly doing a more thorough background check before I let him seduce anymore monks, that's for bloody certain.” She muttered before giggling somewhat breathlessly, finally free to _enjoy_ the huge overload of endorphins Fell's attentions had caused to be dumped into her blood stream. Fell just sat on his haunches, looking up at the pair of them with calm expectant eyes, having long since surrendered to his complete lack of control.

Sebastian smiled down at his Bitch, a touch of pride playing over his lush lips, before standing and gesturing toward the bed. Whomever had trained the man had done a fine job of it; he was one of the best pets Sebastian had ever had the pleasure of playing with; the perfect balance between obedience and defiance. A small twinge of regret stabbed though him at the thought that, come morning, he would have to remove the collar walk away from him.

“Come.” He ordered and Fell began to climb to his feet only to have Sebastian place a foot at the back of his knee and force him back down. “Bitches don't walk.” He said calmly, “They crawl.” His words calling forth a breathless whimper of appreciation from between the Champion's lips. Immediately, Hawke began to crawl toward the bed. Sebastian turned back to run his eyes over the still quaking Isabela.

“Can you stand or am I going to have to carry you?” He asked her coolly.

“What?” She asked, her eyes popping wide and looking utterly panicked.

“Can you make it to the bed, Wench?” He asked her saying the words slowly as though she were exceptionally slow.

“Are you saying you want to fuck us both?” Isabela said, sitting up with a little more energy; her eyes sparking with interest.

“You couldn't even pay me...” Sebastian said not even attempting to soften or mitigate the insulting sting in the slightest. “No, I'm going to impale your lover again, and then we are _both_ going fuck him until he shatters.” He finished quietly turning to watch as Fell tried to get himself onto the tall-set bed. It was a challenge for him. He couldn't quite seem to get his feet under him. Apparently Sebastian's order to crawl had been rather unnecessary. Clearly the man's hips and legs were not yet up to supporting his weight. Seb chuckled again and turned back to look at the pirate who really did look as though she might have the same problem.

_As much fun as it might be to make her crawl too, I don't feel like breaking her in. One little bitch is quite enough sin for me this evening, I rather think._

With a sigh, Sebastian bent and unconcernedly scooped the woman to his chest, making her yelp at his unexpectedly casual contact. For the first few steps she clung rigidly in his arms as though she expected he might drop her on her ass any moment.

The pirate was a little stunned honestly. Sebastian had been behaving a right sot toward her the whole night. Clearly it was _her_ he'd decided to blame for his fall from grace but despite his rudeness, and rather hostile attitude, his touch was remarkably gentle and chivalrous – considering the circumstances, and the fact that they were both of them, naked. The difference of the reality versus her expectations was rather boggling.

Shit, he didn't even _drop_ her onto the bed; instead he laid her down softly on the supporting wall of pillows, next to the prone and exhausted Hawke.

Upon feeling the warmth of another body lying next to him, Fell cracked an eye open to see what was up. Seeing his Pirate Queen lying naked next to him he'd immediately dredged up the energy to drag himself to her and proceeded to give her a blistering kiss the better to demonstrate his appreciation of her. Sebastian just shook his head and left them to it, once more running his eye over the remaining bottles of lubricant.

“Have I told you, you're the most amazing, brilliant, woman in all of creation lately?” Hawke asked, drawing back to kiss and lick his way down her neck to the soft swells of her breast.

“Glad someone thinks I'm brilliant. I've been questioning my intelligence all evening.” She gasped when his mouth found its way to the hard budding flesh of her nipple, which he immediately began to tease with teeth and tongue.

“You're spectacular! You're beautiful and kind and so incredibly giving...” He murmured into her flesh, making her skin buzz and ache. “I love that about you – No one else I know would let me have this. I could easily give you the rest of my life, Bela.” He looked up at her, a soft smile playing over his lips, his heart in his vermillion eyes making Isabela's throat work as a thick knot of emotion got tangled up in it.

_Shit._ What in the Void was this? Was Hawke trying to tell her he loved her? _Really?_ _Now_? _!_ _This_ was the moment that crazy bastard chose to confess his feelings? While they were both of them utterly wrecked and at the mercy of a demon who wandered around disguised as a pious saint?

Maker! The man really _was_ an idiot.

Hawke's eye got hugely round as he suddenly remember two things. A) He wasn’t supposed to say stuff like that to Isabela. B) They were not alone. He remembered the first cause Isabela's face had gone curiously blank all-of-a-sudden, her eyes getting the wide frightened deer look. The reason for his suddenly remembering that second point was more obvious; for at that precise moment Seb had lined up and slammed into him in a brutal singular thrust.

“Fucking shit!” Fell ground out through his teeth as he once again found himself full to bursting with the other's cock. His every tendon and muscle wound instantly taught.

“Not to interrupt a tender moment, but I believe it was requested of me to fuck you until you break. Clearly I haven't succeeded in my task if you're still this coherent.” Sebastian whispered darkly into Hawke's ear as he pulled the man back until he was practically sitting in the prince's lap.

Isabela was dragged back into the here and now at the sight of Fell's entire body going rigid at close quarters, so much more provocative than it had been from across the room – and it had been fucking _hot_ from there. From here, however, she could _really_ savor the way his muscles clenched and rippled with the strain. The erotic line of his neck and clavicle as they strained and popped out under the onslaught. The delicious way his eyes rolled before they closed. The scrumptious sight of his jaw muscles as they clenched before he threw his head back and attempted to swallow his cry at the deep contact.

Isabela began to pant at the vision of her lover drawn taut as a bow-string in the archer's hands. She spared a glance for the prince and saw his lips quirk in a knowing smile, and he gave her a small nod of encouragement as her hands once again began to roam over her own body.

“Look at your whore.” Fell's eye snapped open at the command, and raked over her entire body hungrily, fevering her flesh anew with that hot bloody regard. It stoked the embers of her earlier fire and Isabela's hand reached down between her legs, two fingers set to sink into her hot dripping cunt. “Look at her. So hot and desperate for you.” Sebastian continued to murmur into the mage's ear. “She's practically drooling to see you being taken like this.” Sebastian snapped his hips once, fast and hard, relishing the way the Champion whimpered in his arms.

“How good does she feel inside, I wonder.” Sebastian went on, making Fell moan a small mewling panting gasp of want; his eyes locked onto where Isabela's fingers were sinking in and out of her slick channel. Encountering almost no resistance at all given how wet and lost she'd become at the sight of Sebastian breaching Fell again. “See how hot she is for you? Don't you just _wish_ you were buried deep inside of her? Balls deep in her hot tight flesh. Feeling her clench and pulse around you...” Sebastian's hand snaked forward to gather up some of the Pirate’s nectar in his palm. “So wet for you.” Sebastian crooned, bringing that slick palm to Fell's throbbing cock, even as he wrapped his other arm around the man's hips, caging them back against his own. Slowly, he began to stroke the mage with languid, unhurried strokes that made Fell cry-out and shudder, his eyes squeezing shut, his head falling forward, all his muscles shaking and twitching anew.

Sebastian smiled into Isabela's face as her eyes grew massively round, her tongue coming out to lick her lips at the sight of him stroking her lover. Fell seemed to have lost himself again in the pleasure; his hips trying to buck forward and increase the pace of Sebastian's toying, trying to turn it into something more focused. More purposeful. But Sebastian’s forearm was locked in front of his hips. An immoveable force holding Fell in place so the mage could neither direct the nature of that maddeningly slow, loose hand, nor find any relief by shifting himself along the hard thick length burning deep inside of him.

“Look at her, Bitch.” He ordered and Fell opened his eyes once more, instantly making contact with Isabela's own. “Tell me how she tastes.”

“Like spice and lust.” Fell gasped “Like ambrosia. Like everything forbidden and - _ugh!_ \- filthy.”

“Tell us how good her _cunt_ feels.”

_Oh Sweet Maker!_ Fell's mind just about came undone to hear Sebastian say 'cunt' in that dark, thick burr.

“She feels like- _ngh!_ \- silk and _-ah!-_ the sun and sin.” Fell panted, his cock now twitching and weeping with desire to relive those feelings he was being forced to recall.

“You want her right now don't you, my little bitch? Even with me buried in you, you want to take her. To plow into her and make her cum around you. To make her writhe and scream for you.”

“Yes.” Fell moaned

“Such a selfish little bitch you are.”

“Yes, Ser.” He hissed looking down at his lover who was looking back at him with eyes shining with an avarice every bit as powerful as his own. Suddenly, the slick warmth of Sebastian's hand was no longer wrapped around his length, making Fell want to snarl at the man for teasing him, but when that hand moved forward and touched _his_ Isabela, he froze. His respiration coming faster and harder as he watched that tanned hand move along the swollen folds of her cunt, gathering more and more of her juices on his fingers as he went, until he came to rest at the little puckered star of her ass.

“And here? How good does she feel when you take her here?” Sebastian whispered into Fell's ear, as both Fell and Isabela went instantly still, like hounds scenting a rabbit.

“Paradise.” Fell breathed. Transfixed by the prince's finger as it circled the small dark star with practiced ease.

“Shall we fuck her here, my little bitch?” Sebastian asked, kissing along the sensitive join of flesh between Fell's neck and shoulder.

“Master, please.” Fell crooned, his voice no more than a trembling quiet breath.

“Make her ready for us.” Seb ordered and Fell collapsed to the bed in a rush of want, bringing his overused and aching tongue to bear once more. Licking and teasing along the rippling texture of the entrance to her southern harbor. And Isabela removed her fingers from her core to tangle them in his hair, muttering encouragements; giving him access to the now rapidly flowing honey, that he might use her natural lubricant to coat his fingers before he eagerly set about softening and stretching her for him.

Above the prone apostate, Sebastian smiled wickedly into the pirate’s gold eyes before he drew back and slammed into Fell making the man cry out into the sensitive skin, sending a jolt through the other rogue. Then he proceeded to set about making things as difficult as he could for the pair. He pulled back and angled himself so that the head of his cock rammed right into that sweet-spot he'd discovered earlier, making the Champion buck and shudder and mewl as he frantically tried to accomplish the task that had been ordered of him.

“Sweet bloody Creators! Enough!” Isabela finally cried. “It's enough already! I swear if you don't make him put it in me I'm gonna do the job myself!” Isabela finally snarled up at Sebastian. The prince just smiled and dragged Fell up against his chest, reaching down to angle the man's cock so that the pirate might do just that.

“By all means, Wench, _do_ make yourself useful.”

Isabela didn’t need telling twice. She scooted down the bed in record time, and had herself lined up and sinking onto Fell's cock before you could say 'slut'. Seb matched her pace from the back. Once again slowly driving into Fell's ass in that same, steady move as though it were their first time all over again.

Their combined efforts saw Fell crack.

The Champion began to keen and mewl brokenly up at the ceiling, his head shaking in small pathetic negatives as a string of muted pleading curses and begging prayers flew from him lips. At last both of the rogues were pressed as tight up against him as they could physically be, Fell began vibrate, his body thumbing with his pent up need as he gulped in huge great gasps of air to lungs that felt like they would never be sated again. His every muscle straining as he fought off his body's essential _need_ to cum right then and there.

“Bloody Andraste! You two need to be quick about this.” He finally succeeded in gasping out, his hands blindly seeking out a hand from each of his partners. “I'm not going to last like this at all.”

Sebastian and Isabela shared a look over Fell's shoulder, full of mutual understanding. The sight of Hawke desperately struggling to stave off his orgasm with every last scrap of his remaining will, so wondrously beautiful, was doing terrible things to their own control. Finally, they were of an accord. They would work together to make their lover shatter; to unmake him until he was nothing more than a puddle of nerves and spent flesh. Isabela's long legs came up, wrapping about both men with ease, and Sebastian draped himself forward covering Fell completely, his hand seeking out the center of Isabela's pleasure.

Then they started to move.

They matched each other's rhythm within a moment. Both of them drawing back and surging forward in perfect unison. Slowly at first, marveling at the cursing and caterwauling Hawke between them. Their slow and measured pace didn’t last long though, they'd soon all been driven to thrust and buck with an overpowering frenzied speed, as the fire Fell was fighting caught and took hold within his partners. Soon they were all of them sweating and trembling as the final crash of their releases rushed up to meet them, as they all balanced on the knife's edge of their mutual lust and love. A rising unstoppable wave of pure euphoria that would crash over them to drag them through the Void and into paradise.

Fell and Sebastian could feel their partner’s imminent break in the fluttering convulsing muscles of the holes they were respectively buried in. Isabela could see in the way the men's eyes had lost all semblance of focus as they stared blindly into the abyss of their pleasure.

Then, holding back a roar, Sebastian bit into the joining flesh of Fell's neck and shoulder and something remarkable - _and magical_ \- happened.

That sweet kiss of pain knocked loose Hawke's tenuous hold on his control, and with a thundering bellow, Fell was cumming... and coming undone.

With a shattered howl, Fell's magic exploded around them. Calling up a gale force wind which tore through the room, crawling with little sparks of lightning, tongues of fire, and shards of ice. A furious wild and uncontrolled elemental tempest, wreaking havoc in the room around them as Hawke's magic surged out of his control and created a real world manifestation of Fell's overwhelming, awe inspiring, orgasm.

His magic crawled over him making his passage clench like a vice around Sebastian and his cock kicked and overflowed into Isabela's sensitive back alley. His magic flowed out over his partners, making both of the rogue’s nerves sing with a resonant anguish, and between his magic on their skin and his body unraveling between them, they were both of them caught up in the riptide and dragged out over the threshold of their resistance as one. Their voices tangling and weaving together in a song sweet and pure enough to outshine the Chant of Light itself.

Then the moment was passed, and with and final shuddering effort not to crush each other, they all collapsed upon the now-scorched and frost-covered bedding.

Spent.

Sated.

And, all of them - _utterly_ \- ruined.

 

 

**.:ox-HMH-xo:.**

 

 

“What in the bloody Void was that?” Isabela inquired sleepily of the dark room some time later when her mind and body had stopped reeling with the aftershocks.

“I believe we made his magic cum.” Came Sebastian's chuckled reply from somewhere on the other side of the prone and unconscious mage lying heavily between them where he'd blacked out. Isabela turned her head in the direction of the prince's voice, not that it did any good in the now absolutely dark room they'd been plunged into. The ferocity of the storm Fell had unleashed having extinguished all the light sources in the room, including the fire.

“Is that even a thing?”

“Apparently so.” Sebastian's rich chuckle sounded in the darkness once more, making Isabela's skin shiver.

“You know, I don't think I've ever heard you laugh this much in the entire time I've known you, _Choir Boy_.” She mused, adding certain ironic tone to Varric's nickname for the lay brother. After all, they had just spent several hours proving he was absolutely _nothing_ of the sort.

“Perhaps you just haven't been around me much in moments of mirth. Or perhaps I simply spent too much time praying in your presence.”

“And just what _exactly_ would you have been praying for, I wonder?” she mused.

“Strength... or possibly for your blouse to finally collapse under the strain. It was quite dependent on the situation, really.” He quipped in an innocent, nonchalant tone, which made Isabela snicker into the dark.

Silence reigned in the heavily sex scented dark until...

“You are a fool, Isabela.” Sebastian spoke quietly but he knew the pirate heard him. “He loves you and you are risking it to sate your curiosity and wonton nature.”

“You can hardly hold him to some fool thing he said in the middle of all that.” The duelist muttered back.

“And on the beach as well?”

“And just what is _that_ supposed to mean?” She groused, feeling defensive and uncomfortable. “He didn't say _anything_ on the beach.” Why did all the men in her life who provided her with such amazing mind-boggling sex always have to go and get all talkative and kill her buzz after the fact?

“True. He didn’t _say_ anything. He didn't have to. I saw the way he looked at you on the beach before you both knew I was watching. It was the reason I gasped; I hadn't realized it until that moment. He loves you, for some unfathomable reason. You should treasure that. He is rather too remarkable a man to let him slip between your fingers. On the other hand, if you're determined not to have him go right ahead. I'll gladly pick up the pieces for you.”

“Shut up, Monk.” Isabela muttered darkly.

“Of course, it may already be too late for you.” He chucked appreciatively. “I don't think he's going to be able to go without a cock again for a very long time. He is a right little cock slut, our Hawke.”

“You offer sermons up with that mouth?” Isabela snarked from the darkness, “And just who are you calling ' _our_ Hawke'” Then she sighed. “I suspect you are right though. I'll have to look into finding someone to join us on a more regular basis...”

“If you would perhaps be willing to wait until I had retaken my throne...”

“Yeah. Do me a favor Sebastian. Stay away for my man in the future. You cheat.”

“As if you don't. Well then, I shall simply extend an offer. If he's ever looking for someone to play rough with him again... I'm sure I could take him off your hands for a bit.”

“Yeah, not going to happen. I don't trust you not to try _keeping_ him. And Maker knows, if I'm going to have another cock in this bed on a semi-permanent basis, I expect to see some action from it myself. And I don't need _two_ men kitted out like Qunari, thank you very much. I may be greedy but I've got _some_ sense of self preservation.”

“If you're taking orders I request a nice long, _slender_ elven prick.” Came a pillow muffled groan from the mage lying face down between the two rouges. Isabela went rigid as a stone statue on his other side in fear of just what exactly Fell might have overheard.

“So you _are_ alive, after all.” Sebastian mused, running a hand over the man's warm back, to his neck; his fingers toying with the collar he'd not yet removed. His reluctance to release the Champion from his power sitting uneasily in his mind and heart; Sebastian did not want to set Fell free so that he might find himself another master. He let his finger drift clear of the buckle, to caress the gems instead; idly wondering what would happen if he _didn't_ remove it. If he left it for the Champion to take it off himself. Would the lingering impression of this collaring persist on Fell's psyche? Sebastian rather thought it would, given how the man had responded to him tonight. The prince suspected that until Seb took that collar off with his own two hands then feel of it would never truly depart from Hawke's unconscious mind, leaving the man reluctant to let anyone else collar him in future.

It would be a dirty trick to leave it...

Sebastian let his hand glide down the man's back once more, to cup his ass possessively instead.

Fell didn't seem to notice, merely murmuring in response to the prince’s words, “No. You killed me. I am killed. Now let this corpse sleep already. Bicker about who gets to play with me in the morning.”

 

 

**.:ox-HMH-xo:.**

 

 

Varric grumbled as he trekked up the stairs to Hawke's room. Irritated that Hawke had sent for him to come all the way up here when they had their regularly scheduled card game for that evening at the Hanged Man. Why their supposed _business_ couldn't be settled-up then was beyond the dwarf.

He had been even more put out to learn that -having come all the way to Hightown, per Hawke's request- the Champion was still taking his beauty rest. After listening to Sandal croon and coo over some enchantment or some such he was working on for a whole blasted twenty minutes, the dwarf's patience had snapped. And it was with a satisfied sense of vindictive justice that he decided he would go wake _Hawke_ up for once.

He had just reached for the door handle to the Champion's bed chamber when the door opened inward and Varric found himself face to face with a half-naked Choir Boy.

For a moment dwarf and man just stared at each other before Choir Boy went bone pale and stammered something unintelligible and tried to shut the door in Varric's face.

Varric wasn't having any of it and pushed his way into the room and stared, for once completely lost for words at the sight before him. The room looked like it had been host to one Void-blasted shit-storm of a fight: the desk was in shambles, the coals from the hearth scattered over the carpet, the draperies and bed curtains hanging half off their fixtures in total disarray... and everywhere the storyteller's copper eyes roamed, he saw clear signs of elemental magics.

And in the middle of the wreckage -on a bed that looked like it had come out on the losing side of a fight with several of the mage's spells- lay Hawke.

And a right hot mess of him at that.... covered in bruises, bite marks, the salt of stale sweat crusting his skin and -Ancestors take it!- was that Vice's collar wrapped around his neck?!

“You're fucking shitting me!”

Hawke stirred and opened one blood-shot eye and upon seeing the dwarf standing at the door next to a Sebastian who had turned a startling shade of crimson, the mage smiled broadly. Taking a great deal of amused pleasure out of Sebastian's discomfiture as well as the look of out-and-out incredulity that was cemented on Varric's features.

“Ah. Got my note, I see.” Fell rumbled, his voice so rough Varric would never have believed it was Hawke who'd spoken if he hadn't _seen_ the words leave the man's lips. Pushing himself up with a groan, and hiss for his abused ass and aching hips, as he swung his legs down to the floor, the human continued in that ruined voice. “I believe you owe me some coin, Dwarf.”

Varric looked between the blushing Choir Boy and the obviously wrecked condition of Hawke, completely unable to reconcile the two as being related.

“Speechless, Varric?” Came Isabela's voice from the door to the bath chamber before the half clad pirate herself appeared there. “That must be one for the record books!”

“This is a damn trick, Hawke. You doped him up and snuck him in here.” Varric accused narrowing his eye at the pair. Fell laughed heartily making the pink sapphires on that crazy collar glint in the morning light.

“Nice try, old man.” Hawke snorted as he tried to gain his feet and went to take a step- “Now pay up or- SHIT!” -and promptly fell flat on his face as his legs gave out from under him.

The snickering that broke the silence that greeted Hawke's collapse made Varric turn and stare in wide eyed amazement all over again.

At the sight of the dwarf's completely flabbergasted expression, Sebastian lost it completely and threw his head back and simply _roared_ with laughter, until tears were streaming from his eyes with his mirth. Soon his guffaws were joined by those of Rivaini and even Hawke himself started chortling in to the rug.

For a moment more Varric just stood and stared at the three half naked humans as they continued to laugh like loons in the middle of the disaster zone that had once been Hawke's master suite like they'd all completely cracked. But as his incredulity faded a small bubble of levity blossomed in his own throat, then he too, was laughing. Before he knew it he'd laughed himself breathless, and was forced to wipe tears from his eyes with one hand as the other clutched at his aching side.

“Well shit!” The dwarf crowed, finally managing to draw in breath enough to speak, while he fished out a coin purse which he lobbed good natured-ly at the prostrate Champion. “No one's _ever_ gonna believe another word I say after I've told them this one, Hawke!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Closing A/N*: Well that is it! The silly 'little' encounter that I initially intended to post as a one-shot and which ended up taking on such a life of its own that I couldn't even post just the /sex scene/ as a single chapter...
> 
> Again a huge thank you to [Enhant](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Enchant/pseuds/Enchant) for being such awesome amazing wonderful person!
> 
> If you like what you read here, and want to read more about Fell's journey, then please Subscribe to this story (or me as an author, that works too). I'll post a 'heads-up' update on this if/when I get around to posting the rest of his stories, a series of 'smaller' encounter fics like this one... it could be a while... My plot bunnies are of the evil undead variety... ( If you curious about these other stories Please visit [my profile](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/4920341/Shadowfire-RavenPheonix) on FFNet - I have a section for Upcoming Projects and most of Fell's time line is listed there with brief summaries and I'd love to hear your thoughts on any or all of them)
> 
> On the note of related fic's: Keep your eyes peeled for two Fell follow-up stories in the form of a couple of Gift-Fics!
> 
> for [Hatsepsut](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Hatsepsut) (and those of you who are fans of my Dom Sebastian): 'Worth Keeping' – A Sebastian/Anders/Fenris threesome to take place after the Chantry's destruction, full of smutty angst-y goodness!
> 
> &
> 
> for [Enhant](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Enchant/pseuds/Enchant) (and those of you who drooled over Fell as Seb's Bitch): “Dungeon Games' – A Mega Slash Fest! Staring Fell, Sebastian, Anders, Fenris, as well as everyone’s other favorite elf... Zevren! To take place after the events of 'Worth Keeping” this will be a kink fest of epic proportions!
> 
> But First! - (:D) Tragedy! - (D:)
> 
> Okay so [Hatsepsut](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Hatsepsut) and I may have gotten embroiled in a small challenge regarding which of us could make more of you people cry... So Coming Soon – A couple of tragic Fenris Fics! (My offering in this battle to be, shall be titled “The Price of Prejudice” - But fair warning... we both fight dirty.)
> 
> And one more time (com'on... say it with me!) “Comment people!”
> 
> Let me know what you thought of Hot Mess! (It was wordy right? Too Long? Flowery! It was too flowery wasn't it? Or perhaps not flowery enough for your tastes?) I'm dying to know what you thought!
> 
> Seriously I'm a neurotic insecure introverted woman (in real life) who craves social contact, so let's start a conversation people!
> 
> (extra bonus cookies if you're reading this ages after it was posted and leave a comment anyway!)


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